The Flying Mermaid
I connected with a woman that called herself the Flying Mermaid during the days when Myspace was the social platform. She had life experience, and she drew a crowd with her ability to weave a tale. We interacted a lot, and our lives because further intertwined when she visited and stayed with me for a bit. I thought of her as a second mother. The irony is that she and my mother were born a few days apart.
Emily, also known as the Flying Mermaid, is a free spirit. She moves throughout the world in a way I would never consider—her movements encouraged by the privileges I didn’t inherit. For me, it’s like seeing the world through someone else’s eyes.
Emily and I have lost contact a few times, but we’ve always managed to find each other. Every time we reconnect, I’m amazed at how well she knows me. It’s like she can look inside and read my motivations.
I love being around people that get me. I know that’s not something that happens immediately, and I enjoy being around people that put forth the effort. It’s always as simple as asking that hard question or challenging my view.
She’s called me on my shit repeatedly. She’s supported my writing. She has been supportive in ways my blood family has never been. I know I’m not the only person that feels this way about her. She’s impacted hundreds, maybe thousands. She’s a woman that has never given birth but has a world full of children.
I think about Emily a lot now because of Corona. She lives alone in the remote Arizona desert. I wonder if she’s safe if she has the supplies she needs. I wonder if something were to ever happen to her if I would know.
Perhaps you could try to find her so you can check on her?
I have been in contact with her, but the questions still remain.
Okay, then it makes sense – at least to me – that if you can contact her and have questions, would contacting her for answer be in order?
I’m not in the habit of asking people if I’d be contacted if something happened to them. That’s just not how my conversations go. Here, I can wonder about anything.
Ohh, Puppy, I’m so touched!
As for knowing you so well, you have yourself to blame for that, as I do mine that you know me so well! By the time we met in person, we knew everything about each other, which says something about what honest writers we both are.
I’ve never had as many kids as I did on MySpace! Remember Your Ma is My Other Ride? She’s the only one who called me Granny. A few did call me Mom (one still does), Alysia and them called me MeeMaw. My babies! You’re making me really nostalgic!
Also, don’t forget, until I got back to the desert, I was always available by phone, in the days we were both capable of talking on the phone.
I remember so well the first time we talked, not too long after I got back East to care for my mother (you were one of very few I knew before heading East).
I remember standing in the kitchen of the old family home, on the old wall phone with miles of crinkled cord, hearing your voice for the first time and shrieking, My Puppy my Puppy!
But I’m surprised to hear of your concern. Not only because I’m always just a text away, but because undoubtedly, when it comes to the Rona, I’m sure I’m the safest person you know!
I haven’t left the house since before this all started, because self-isolation is my norm. And the only person I’ve seen in all that time is Vicente who works here a few days a week, and hasn’t been anywhere but here and his house since this all began, has seen no one but me, is also well stocked, even stocked way up on gasoline when this all started, so he doesn’t even go to the gas station.
My only fear is that I’ve developed no safety habits in case I do ever have to leave, but I have masks and gloves, sanitizers and wipes, should that day ever come.
So far my life is thoroughly unchanged by all this — hell, I’ve ALWAYS stocked up on toilet paper. The only difference is that I no longer go out to meet the UPS man when I hear him rolling up. I let him drop packages on my stoop, and then I don’t bring them inside for at least 24 hours.
It’s all good here. I just worry about my loved ones, all of whom live in big cities, mostly NYC and LA.
When you think of me, Puppy, it should not make you worried, it should bring you peace. I’m out here giggling my days away in paradise!
I was worried about YOU this last time, that was a long stretch. But you do seem to always come back eventually.
Can you believe October is our 15th anniversary? Loving you forever!
Knowing that you’re set up for success doesn’t stop me from worrying. I think that knowing that you are alone makes me worry more.
But I’ve always been alone, I like it that way (though of course I miss Cora Belle every minute).
Please don’t worry about me!