Can of Worms

Today I have an unexpected day off. To make things even better, I actually woke up feeling refreshed. I also found the secret to fluffy, delicious whole wheat pancakes (3/4 cup whole wheat flour, 1 egg, 2 full teaspoons of baking powder, 2 Tablespoons of butter, 1/2 cup - ish rice milk until right texture, zest of 1/2 a lemon, a smattering of cardamom. The secret is less flour, more egg and more baking powder). Now I am sewing yellow flowers and planning a library trip. Maybe I will sit outside and read. Probably do some homework too.

Okay, we all know I am allergic to the world, something I keep trying to deny. But try as I might, I just can't ignore it any longer. But some new diet adjustments (ugh), acupuncture, and sleeping with socks on my hands (yes, like an infant) has finally made some improvements. Over the weekend, something triggered something and it looked like my hand had been burned. I was stumped. So I wrote an alternate version of reality. Ahem.

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She had always had a spot on her right hand, a little patch of scaly skin. When she was younger, she remembered being surprised that everyone didn't have one. She would go from palm to palm looking for scales. That was before she learned to be embarrassed by it. Now she favored her left hand, keeping her right delicately hidden. Thankfully gloves were always in style and she was clever with her fingers, so she rarely need two hands for any task. Of course, everyone still knew she was different. Nobody forgot.

Things had remained the same for a long time. Except now, suddenly, they were different. The change happened when she was helping her mother at church. It was a Wednesday evening, right before the mid-week meeting. She was helping to prepare communion, a task that did require two hands and no gloves. At least, she always consoled herself, it could be done in private with just her mother present. As she pulled off her glove she let out a small gasp. "My word!" exclaimed her mother. The girl held out her hand, staring at is as if she had never seen it before. The one dry patch had spread all across her palm and up to the tip of each finger, a glaring red. She couldn't account for the change. She tested the movement of each of her fingers, which pulsed with their inner fire. "What did you do to yourself?" her mother growled, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the sink. The girl numbly allowed her hand to be drenched in cool water, but the pulsing remained. After a while her mother turned off the water and continued to stare at her hand. "Well, there is still work to be done and I can't have you helping with this..." She let her sentence hang in the open space. "Sit here until I return for you." The girl sank to a stool, now clutching her hand to her chest. It felt better there. The throbbing was less painful and more interesting.

She didn't know how much time had passed. The throbbing of her hand had entered her brain and lulled her into a daze. She stood and tried to shake it off, but to no avail. She went to the window and loosened the latch to open it, keeping her right hand tight against her. The air felt hot and dry, not offering an ounce of refreshment. She leaned further out onto the sill, hoping to catch any fragment of a breeze. Impulsively she held her pulsing hand out into the air, not caring who saw the glistening scales that had begun to form. She closed her eyes and she felt the heat embrace her hand and then the throbbing stopped. She opened her eyes and saw her hand was pressed up against the nose of ... a dragon. They gazed at each other for a moment as she noticed her hand matched the dragon's scales perfectly. Her foreign hand was finally resting someplace where it looked natural. As natural as it could look, touching a dragon that was cozied up to the church's back window.

Of course, her mother returned precisely at this moment. The girl was sure her mother's scream would echo in the heavens forever. She looked at her mother and then back at the dragon. Without any hesitation, she tucked up her skirt and climbed out the window, never lessoning her grasp on her dragon. She slid her hand onto its neck and vaulted herself onto its back. Her mother ran to the window with a small cry. The girl smiled back at her wistfully and then buried her head into the dragon's neck as it took flight. Together they soared over the church steeple and into the hot blue sky, where the girl finally belonged.

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Okay, this story has nothing at all to do with my reality but I enjoy thinking that maybe a dragon will show up to make my day just that much more interesting.