Enigma
( Finding God in a '56 Buick)
On summers balmy day I lie prone in the cool grass lawn, gazing at personifications formed by lazy clouds sauntering by as I contemplate life and purpose. My reverie is interrupted by a muted rumble. Soft and deep like distanced thunder , but not as from oncoming train. I sit upright.
Easing under a boulevard canopy of tree leaf mottled sunlight, a dappled deep blue chariot, much too regal to be tagged as “car”, almost silently glides to a halt curbside in front of me. The only sound I notice interrupting this placid motion is the muffled scuff of the white sidewall tires coming to a halt against the curb . Then silence.
This vehicle appears as a sedate 1956 Buick Roadmaster, immaculate and pristine, dripping in unblemished chrome. As perfect as I have never seen of an automobile. It sits serene and huge. I notice, even though it is midday and the sun bright, there seems to be a veil; no, an aura, around the car, as though enveloping it in timeless space, so like an apparition. All windows are darkened, and I cannot see anything inside.
I rise and walk to the verge and pause. Slowly I approach this ominous arrival, frightened a bit, but compellingly curious. I look at my own reflection in the opaque windows and press close.
With a almost imperceptible whine, the rear window recedes downward , releasing a cool, conditioned flush of air from inside ; smelling of Mom and freshly washed sheets, it infuses my nostrils and I am curiously calmed, and yet simultaneously excited.
What has this conference carried to my streetside? A learned judge? a celebrity? Some lost soul ? Curiosity leaps unbridled as I lean yet closer into this darkened envelopment.
A singular figure sits in the opulent cushions at rear. It is dressed in what appears to be a business suit , but all I can see for sure- it is dark and almost blends into upholstery. A glance to the front reveals no driver; only darkness. It is all so calm and shaded and mysterious.
Unable to contain my wonderment, I speak; imploring, “May I help you?”
Who is this in this most magnificent sedan from a bygone era?
There is no response; not even a turn toward me.
I shudder in goosebumps. What lies in store? What does this being want of me, and why me? What is the purpose? I am feeling calmer in my angst now as if reassured somehow, as if a peace has shrouded me.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly , the richly dressed figure turns toward me and the face slides from veiled shadow into my gaze.
I am transfixed, astounded and startled to a state of immobile statuary.
I am looking at myself. It is my own countenance I see. How can this be?
Before I can react or rebound to formulate any voice, there comes a smile from this “inside” me.
“No thank you, I’m just looking,” comes across to me in voice; Or perhaps a thought, or even intuition. I’m unsure.
I am unable to discern if actual words were formed. But I certainly feel a presence has enveloped me. Whatever the format, this delivery came with a sense of omniscience, reassurance, of unimaginable power.
Frozen again, I pull back as the window rises with soft whir and closes with a solid “thud” again closing me off to ponder this moment of revelation.
The Buick slides from the curb. No thrashing engine. No squeal of springs. It is as though an ocean liner has just slid into seas journey. It recedes down the leafy boulevard and, dare I say, its aura becomes opaque .
Shapes and light slides me back to the reality of the now, I am lying on the grass , looking up at clouds. Did I nod off ? Was this apparition of a summers nap ? Was there ever even a car? I have a brief pervading thought.
Did I just gaze, ever so briefly, into God’s eyes?
