Musings of Professor Fox

 the night flew by without notice conversation engaging as the barriers disintegrated leaving each other  open and vulnerable to chase whimsical transgressions into the dark horizon  over five-minute hours as dawn faraway broke gently into their soul-baring revelry 

  The day was unusally calm for mid-September in the Rocky Mountains, but she would not complain. Serena Michaels was bound and determined to make it home at least once during these crazy pandemic times. She had her bus ticket in hand, and made her way from the office, where she had the most wonderful chat with the kind ticket agent, to the platform where the great steel beasts were parked awaiting their passengers. The compartments underneath Bus 1023 were open, and the driver was guiding passengers to place their suitcases according to their seat assignments. Since Serena had requested the very back row, she quickly moved to the farthest compartment, stowed her single suitcase, and then moved toward the door. She would keep her backpack with her since her entire life and career were stowed safely in the padded compartment. Her laptop. She never let it out of her sight. Looking back quickly to remember the compartment number, R4, she walked toward the front of the bus and climbed ...

The older man summoned his son to inspect the ground where the newlywed's house would be built. A fine plot of land set at the edge of the valley. His new daughter-in-law would be able to sit at a specially designed window seat facing south and observe a rainbow of colors as the seasons progress: white in the winter, greens of all shades in the spring, deeper greens and golden browns in the summer signaling harvest, and a rainbow in the fall as nature shed her leaves. “I want to show you something that I learned too late in life,” the father said as he pointed to four stones he had placed, one in each corner of the foundation. As they walked around together, the son noticed that words were carved into each stone carefully. Beginning in the northwest corner, the young groom saw the word “LOVE” in red letters. The father spoke, “Love is an important foundation for you two to build your life upon, and since the normal color associated with love and passion is red, well, I had it paint...

  The hours flip by—much like the card clothes-pinned to the spokes of my childhood bike frame offering an exhilaration and feeling of speed.   I sit and ponder the feeling of hearing the thwip-thwip-thiwp in rapid succession as each contact briefly touched the aluminum and let go.   The calendar taunts me from the top of my desk. 2022. Fifty years ago, I started this adventure poor, naked, and cold.   Along the way, I met a partner so imperfectly perfect that my life was altered irreversibly and set on a path full of joy and sorrow, agony and ecstasy.   Never had I thought to gather such emotion and meaning from a single word— a fundamental, foundational change both inwardly and outwardly.   Tipping the imaginary hourglass on its end forcing the unnumbered grains from one bulb to the other, sliding unaffected through the neck to reside in a new home.   Day after day, week after we...