Word Play

A success to crow about

Brandon Ferguson

I feel like a crow, standing on the side of a road, accepting what the driver shows, embracing all that I know. Wheels are turning, my ambition is burning, churning the dreams that butter my yearning for bread. Dread—I no longer feel its burn because of what I’ve learned; you know that we’ve all earned our turn to sleep soundly in our made beds.

As the end fast approaches, I burn my last roaches and encroach upon the fertile crescent of the ferocious free world with these atrocious if somewhat precocious last few words: You can do it.

More than anything else that we’ve learned, I’ve discerned that the lessons taught here—so sweet and so stern—were meant to lead us towards everything we’ve earned, a de facto prize for all our lives’ twists and turns. The casting agent turned research-giant; the Telus worker no longer cubicle-reliant; the school teacher whose heart lay in prose; the project manager whose empathy for a good cause truly shows; the flight attendant whose penchant for the written word glows; the dropout who copped out and showed us more talent than she even knows; the depressed and the repressed and the drugged all shrugged and said, “Hey, wanna share some words and maybe go for a smoke?”

Never have I ever met friends that were better to be tethered to forever in weather fair, foul, or indifferent.

I feel like we are all worldly crows, hopping along life’s many traveled roads. If I gush, please hush, I know how much it shows. Call me a sap, I’ll call you crap; don’t get trapped in the rat race that places positive cases and happy faces into the file folder of suspicious—it’s all in the eye of the beholder and I think we’ve all grown bolder, if somewhat older, during our time here.

Some crows will live longer than we, but our growth is now stronger than steel; pay attention to the turning wheels and maintain retention of your deepest ideals. If there’s one thing I could observe, and say without any reserve, let it be heard that you all deserve to be served a pat on the back.

You’ve done it. You’ve won it. Don’t shun it for you’ve only just begun it. Freedom. Ah, freedom. We’ve done so much to only now begin it. Life’s not a lottery, but you’ve got to be in it to win it.

Driving past a crow, I can’t say what it knows. Take flight or just go with the flow. Driving down the road, there is trust between me and the crow. The crow flexes as if ready for flight; I steer straight into the nexus of all right. Freedom and trust, trust and freedom. I trust you all to enjoy your newfound freedom. I’m pleased to congratulate you all and announce what we’ve done. We’ve survived to thrive in a rebirth of the trade we ply. I’m glad to be so sad that I’ll miss you when we’re through. I’m happy (if somewhat sappy) to report that I’m better off for knowing you.

It’s been a blessed trip and I’ve loved your blips on my radar. But before this last sip, please let me quip: I love you all and I’ll see you later.