Mi Vida por El Sofá: El tercero.
by Em Bowen
When I clean up the many kombucha bottles on the passenger side of my Suburu Outback in early October, I find the missing wallet. It is underneath the passenger seat; a single place out of twenty places I checked a hyperbolic one million times. There it is. In that moment, I find part of myself. Relief. I loved that wallet. I avoid materialism but it is a treasure. The same small billfold my dad and brother have, signifying that in some way I am in gender cahoots with them, (if only it were that simple) but with an embedded mercury dime instead of a buffalo nickel. Mercury also know as Hermes, with his winged helmet symbolizing Freedom of Thought. Mercury who fathered a child with Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Procreation and Beauty and Pleasure, named Aphroditus or Hermaphroditus. The middle space God. God of love and manifestation and free thinking. Visionary. My image. And to you all like me, ours.
By the end of October, the car itself breaks beyond repair. Oh god— I’m a car-less, home-less not quite thirty year old who is still living on the same couch. Holly and I looked at each other the other day and wondered, had I really been there 6 months? Time didn’t fly because we were drinking, not like twenty-one. That’s honest. It flew in other ways.