June 10, 2013– As soon as Wilma fell asleep tonight, Sawyer and I slipped out the door of our coop and high-tailed it to Mom’s van. There was a chick flick playing down at the movie theater and we desperately wanted to see it. We were sure that driving was the safest and most efficient way for us to travel. Sawyer sat on the car floor taking control of the pedals while I stood on the front seat and commandeered the steering wheel. She soon realized that her job was nothing but labor, so I described everything I spied as we drove by, even if all I saw were mysteriously formed shadows lined up like sentries under a rainy, moonless sky. The first three minutes went by smoothly. Then, out of nowhere, the bright wash of our headlights illuminated a ghostlike figure standing directly in our path. “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!” I screamed, wrenching the steering wheel right, then left, then right again. “AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!” Sawyer’s cry echoed my own. With sonic speed she slammed on the brakes so hard that it sent us bouncing around the cabin like ping-pong balls. Seconds later, the nightmare ended as the van came to a full stop. Once I realized that I was still alive, I reached up from the floorboards and shoved the gear stick into park. Slowly, I peered up and over the dash. “What was it?!” Sawyer whispered, sidling up beside me. “Skunk”, I mouthed. “Do you think we should save this adventure for a different night?” she probed. I agreed. We slipped the car into neutral and let it roll back to its spot in the driveway. On the way back to the coop, Sawyer put her wing around me and said, “Well, we made it to the mailbox, Hap. That’s a record for us!” She was right. Who needs the theater when we’re living on the stage of life?
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