YES, STRANGE

“YES, STRANGE”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

A woman in a crimson dress road her bike across the frozen lake today wearing green ear muffs and yellow moon boots as well. I was sitting on a bucket ice fishing when I noticed this apparition or insomnia fueled hallucination, I am not sure what term makes me feel more secure in my what I feel to be a sane existence, but then again no true crazy person has ever admitted to being mentally ill. She pulled up gently on her bike and placed down one boot for balance it was then I noticed she was wearing Spiderman leotards, clever I thought. Her bike was of poor quality but she did have expensive spiked tires for such an occasion, it is strange I thought what we spend it on. She had a pleasant smile or perhaps it was merely a frozen grimace, but either way she wore it well. Her mittens where from another time, something one may wear to compliment the rest of their ensemble more so than for warmth in the 19^th century; somehow though she made it all flow together nicely. Sometimes we meet people in life whom are able to carry themselves in the most precarious ways yet balance with great ease. I raised my sunglasses to be polite, I was taught that action was proper as a boy. It was so bright out though after a quick hello and then asked with a smile if that she was lost I let them slide back on to the bridge of my nose. She quickly complimented my humor with a snort and a bashful nod as if she regretted letting it slip out. I find snorts to have a pleasantry about them it shows a true color; an approachable nature about someone. She asked me how the fishing was and so I stood and lifted the bucket on which I was sitting and showed her. She lent in as if she was peaking over a dangerous cliff which was marked by a sign telling everyone to stand back. I had 7 crappies strung on a line and she told me that she really enjoyed crappies and on that note I handed them to her. With no hesitation what so ever she took them from me and told me thank you. She harnessed the fish around her neck and shoulder as if it where a bandoleer. She thanked me one more time and then bid me good day as I watched her peddle away as soft as any slow Russian ballet. I glanced over my shoulder one more time an watched her disappear into the falling snow. Shortly after that small encounter I packed up my gear onto my sled and headed back home. I passed another fisherman just setting up on the ice and he asked me if I had caught anything and I told him no but, I did greet a north woods mermaid. The fisherman chuckled and then told me a fine day it was then; I wished him good fishing and walked away pulling my sleigh behind me while thinking to myself “Yes, strange what we spend it on, and this is a life being well spent in deed.”