29 February, 2016

after the end...tacos

my reaction to the excessive land development in and around our new home is causing me to indulge in fairly frequent post-apocalyptic fantasies. as i return home from a long walk in the dark, i imagine i'm completely alone...

...the almost tangible chorus of cicadas and frogs fills the air as i walk in the perfect darkness. i watch my step, less for fear of snakes (if one gets me, so be it) and more for fear of tripping: the expanse of the parking lot has lost its black perfection and the asphalt bulges where green and growing things are taking back what is rightfully theirs. a snake bite would be fatal but quick; a sprain could cripple me, render me immobile. i think back to the night out with my ladies all those years ago - wine, fancy cheese, and deeply engaging conversation about what to do in case of a zombie apocalypse. sl told us she had it on  good authority (from a military man, i think) that the best way to survive is to keep moving and so i keep moving - gleaning my strange life choices from a conversation had over wine with friends long since turned to dust.

i don't miss other people. i certainly don't miss the constant noise of cars and airplanes, air conditioners and leaf blowers. i don't miss the endless tangled cables that enabled our blinking buzzing technology. dear gods above, i don't miss the paperwork! i walked by an office once - glass wall shattered by a tree that came down during one of the summer storms, and one glimpse of the papers littering the floor made me nauseous - how did i survive all those years without succumbing to the endless stream of correspondence, always of the utmost importance? now the only paper i have is this book in which i'm writing, though for whom? i doubt (and fervently hope) that i really am the last person alive and my words will have the decency to be lost when i am finally lost.

i miss warm food - what i wouldn't give for a juicy hamburger! i scavenge the stuff in cans and it's better than nothing, believe me, i'm grateful, but if there was one thing civilization was good for it was food. i do miss my friends and family, but their memories are so deeply etched in my mind that i can bring them up at will, converse with them, ask advice, seek solace. perhaps what i miss most is being touched - short of taming a racoon or another furry beast, it's not likely i'll be getting a cuddle from anything or anyone anytime soon. or ever. still, i can't complain - i got to have my wish: i got to witness the end of the anthropocene.


6 comments:

Zhoen said...

Odd how appealing this is.

polish chick said...

i know, isn't it? one needs one's dreams to keep reality from taking too big of a bite.

Lucy said...

Now you've upset Tom!

(Only a bit, I explained it was just a story).

polish chick said...

lucy - poor tom! though from his earlier comments i'd have thought he'd approve!

the auntologist said...

I don't know what this means, but I think about things like this all the time! Not sure the best strategy is to keep moving, though. I mean, in an urban landscape, sure. Rural? Probably not. Also northern versus southern. Things to consider!

polish chick said...

auntologist - i don't know, this is just something i've been told. as for the whole northern versus southern, right there is another big question - do you head north or south? i keep thinking that south would be somehow easier (food availability, climate) but there's something about the north that seems...safer? purer, more pristine. of course it all depends on the particulars of the apocalypse, but i have a feeling i'd be likely to head north.