MISSION TO MEXICO

The Bluebird darted through the clouds searching for a sign in the sky and on land looking for a place to set down.  In-between whiles, he turned his attention to his immediate surroundings here in the cockpit.

His song was overflowing with joy for this was his holiday, his time to play.  The southern Florida sky was filled with heavenly sunbeams and the big, white fluffy pillows of cirro-culumus.  On the ground were myriads of folks in neat little suburbs spotted with gaudy tropical flowers and an abundance of fruit of all flavors.

Bluebird had nothing to do this day except lie in the sun, feast, relax and be happy.  No wonder his hum was a prophecy of good cheer for the future, for happiness had made up the whole of his past, for the most part.

He was only a fledgling to aviation, but he held his head high with the very thought of sitting in that left seat one day, a virtual reality of ambition.  Fathers of his family had accomplished many feats in uniform that had been shed year after year as wars has ended.  It was as if the pulsing heart of a phoenix passed by when he went winging through the vast open sky.

Only last season Bluebird had finished his training way up north, in that paradise of airplanes, runways and aviation regulations.  Now he was soaring over thousands of acres of marsh-muck everglades stretching under the sun.  Beneath him there were dark pools of murky water, bits of swale with alligator noses poking out of the muck now and then.  Giants of the swamp forest swayed in the breeze with gray, filmy moss hanging loosely from their arms.

The space below resembled a huge dining table for animals, insects and birds.  Wild grapevines clambered occasionally to the tops of the tall trees and their festooned trailers waved to him as silken fringe in the music of the wind. He found an abandoned road and set the tiny single engine plane softly down. It rolled to a stop. He got out and stretched. Little grey wrens lolled in the shade, some peeled and gathered dried bits of bark for nests. They chattered in swarms over insects. Orioles around the edge of the water drew flocks in hunt of wild berries and the marsh grass and weeds were weighted with the seed searchers.  The muck was alive with earthworms and the entire swamp ablaze with life, color and perfume.  Wild vines flaunted their orange and gold from the treetops.  The bees and humming birds made a common cause in rifling their honey-laden blossoms.  The fetid odor drew insects in swarms and flycatchers tumbled and twisted in the air in pursuit of them.  Every hollow in a tree homed its own.  The water folk left trails of shining ripples in their wake as they crossed lagoons.

Bluebird sat watching his Royal Coachman Bucktail float along the calm ripples as it dangled loosely from the line of his Orvis rod.  He sat on the bank so intent on this total scene that the thunder and roar of the engines had vanished, the hustle and bustle of the crowds in the terminals escaped to nowhere and all his cares evaporated into thin air.

It was through the trees that he first saw it and thought he was seeing things.  It was a woman, a beautiful woman with apparently no clothes on.  She stood in the sunbeams filtering down through the trees oblivious of any one or anything other that the sun she was worshiping.  Bluebird then realized it was not a mirage, but a real live human being and he was starring like any red blooded man would.  It was pretty obvious she thought she was alone and out of t his respect he turned his back. He could not let her know she was being watched.  Yet, he turned as if almost hypnotized.  She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, tall, tanned with long auburn-black hair that reached almost to her waist. He had never seen anything so lovely as this nymph he was looking at. Of course he had dated many girls while in college, had a few affairs along the way, but never found anyone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and that was the way he would have it.  That’s the way his ancestors had lived.  They placed women on pedestals and the women came to believe it and acted as through they belonged there.  Not in a superior way, nor queenly way, but side-by-side walking through life together with the men they loved.  In this day and age a lot of young women had a different attitude, and different morals.  H e hoped to someday find that value.

He stood transfixed with the view that was unreal.  He suddenly came back from his reverie and realized he did not want the person he was so captivated with to know anyone was within miles. Then the q