The Great Escape


The Great Escape

By Nandy Ekle

Sub zero temperatures, blowing winds with an edge as sharp as a knife, a little snow here and there. Winter has arrived a few days early and is twisting our lives with grueling intensity. My favorite radio station has two tickets to paradise, but you have to be the ninth caller to get in the drawing — and I’m always number 6.

However, there is a way to visit the tropics while Antarctica eats the siding off my house and tries to cut off our water supply. I can take a pencil and a piece of paper and describe my vision of the Hawaiian beach. I’ve seen the pictures of two palm trees connected by a hammock hanging in the middle between them.

I close my eyes and hear the water rush up the sand, then glide back to the depths. I smell the salt air, feel the slight breeze as the clouds float across the blue sky. Out in the distance I see an ocean liner on the horizon. Sea gulls gossip in the air, but there are no other sounds.

Looking at the line where the briny water has washed up on the beach I see a crab side stepping away from the water. Where is he headed? What is he after? Where did he come from?

I roll off my hammock and walk to the water. As it laps up on my feet and I feel the sand being sucked out from under my toes, I notice a tiny hole open up next to my heel. The hole covers as quickly as it opens, but bubbles rise to the surface and pop. I want to dig down in the hole and find what  made it, but a picture suddenly appears in my head of a sea monster waiting for some unsuspecting finger to plunge down. I go back to my hammock and lay down again.

My eyes close and even the calling of the birds disappears. The air turns cold once again and the biting wind picks back up. I have just arrived home from my trip.

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.


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