The Ecstasy of Cancelled Plans

The ecstasy of cancelled plans.

The ecstasy of my plans for tomorrow being cancelled were so rich, I excused myself for a cigarette in the hot white South Florida heat while the palm trees swelled with the inevitably of another squall.

I turned a corner to find a large, green iguana staring at me. He was a bearded one with a fierce countenance.

We stared at each other for a moment before I snapped his picture and lit a cigarette.

He darted into the small hedge that borders my apartment complex, his long, slithering tail flashing behind him in a sonorous whisper.

This damned job interview keeps moving around my calendar but in a way it works out. I can’t say I’m not grateful for each delay, only that I’m homesick for the burnished plaines of Illinois and the autumn there. The russet leaves of autumn, the apples falling from their trees like discarded costume baubles while they make cider in their skin.

Yes, but the ecstasy of these cancelled plans made my cigarette taste all the more delicious.

I’ll be having a salad for dinner, something light but with good protein. With it, I’ll have a can of tepache I bought.

I can’t say I’m not relieved.