On a trip to North Carolina one of the largest dragonflies I have ever seen smacks our windshield. It is like a tiny helicopter coming in for a crash landing. The impact tears its enormous wings, giving them the jagged crosshatch design of a broken porch screen.
I watch the dragonfly’s legs move slightly and wonder if it was the wind or the last evidence of life. Rick turns on the wipers, but the insect stays wedged between the windshield and the right wiper for the remainder of the trip. Rick keeps saying, “Don’t look at it.” Our sons are oblivious, sitting in the back playing with their Gameboys.
When we get to Wilmington, our destination, I ask Rick to pull into a subdivision, where I slowly pluck the insect from the windshield, half-hoping it is still alive, vainly wishing that it survived not only the crash, but also the two-hour trip at 70 mph.
I lay the dead dragonfly in the yard and examine it. The coloring is a gorgeous dark metallic green— a color I’ve seen before on fancy cars.
His legs curl in finality. My husband interrupts me, calling out the window, “Come on, you’re embarrassing me.”
Author Bio:
Colleen Wells writes from Bloomington, IN, where she lives with her husband, three children, three dogs, and three cats. She writes about animal welfare and social justice issues and often explores mundane subjects with humor in her work. Colleen writes poetry, essays, and short stories. Her work has appeared in NUVO, ORION The Georgetown Review and the Potomac Review among other publications. Her book, Dinner with Doppelgangers: A True Story of Madness and Recovery is forthcoming from Wordpool Press. www.ColleenWells.com, www.dinnerwithdoppelgangers.com.
I watch the dragonfly’s legs move slightly and wonder if it was the wind or the last evidence of life. Rick turns on the wipers, but the insect stays wedged between the windshield and the right wiper for the remainder of the trip. Rick keeps saying, “Don’t look at it.” Our sons are oblivious, sitting in the back playing with their Gameboys.
When we get to Wilmington, our destination, I ask Rick to pull into a subdivision, where I slowly pluck the insect from the windshield, half-hoping it is still alive, vainly wishing that it survived not only the crash, but also the two-hour trip at 70 mph.
I lay the dead dragonfly in the yard and examine it. The coloring is a gorgeous dark metallic green— a color I’ve seen before on fancy cars.
His legs curl in finality. My husband interrupts me, calling out the window, “Come on, you’re embarrassing me.”
Author Bio:
Colleen Wells writes from Bloomington, IN, where she lives with her husband, three children, three dogs, and three cats. She writes about animal welfare and social justice issues and often explores mundane subjects with humor in her work. Colleen writes poetry, essays, and short stories. Her work has appeared in NUVO, ORION The Georgetown Review and the Potomac Review among other publications. Her book, Dinner with Doppelgangers: A True Story of Madness and Recovery is forthcoming from Wordpool Press. www.ColleenWells.com, www.dinnerwithdoppelgangers.com.
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