I first noticed the dragonfly when he bumped into me. I was sitting on the rock wall behind the cabin, talking on the phone when I felt a small thump on my arm, a blur — a dragonfly now on the rock next to me. He sat there, three feet away, his thorax pumping like a bellows. A common whitetail — libellula lydia — he faced me and sat there as my call ended
Hey there, I said
He remained for some time and inched closer. I watched him but also busied myself researching that used Martin at the Dallas Guitar Center and wondering how I might raise the funds to get it; plus the logistics — who can justify the five hour drive during a pandemic? And which of my other guitars should I sell to pay for it? The lovely thing’s specs check all my boxes — shape and color, wood and tone — I played the same model once before and was so intrigued I had to walk away — and the price is good. But dare I enter into the exchange without playing it first and just hope it is THE ONE? God help me — I am a minimalist in so many ways, but not with guitars. I have too many, and I love playing each one
Another bump — he tagged me again and landed close. For the next hour he would fly off and return shortly thereafter, over and over. Even as my attention was invariably sucked into my phone, he kept managing to pull me out of the black hole. I became accustomed to the rhythm, and my obsessions lightened just a bit
Eventually he departed, leaving me better than I was before. Much obliged, friend