Landscape With User Instructions
by Jennifer Bullis
When we moved our widow home, the rental truck came with instructions in a twelve-page pamphlet of finest print:
do not load the load unevenly. Do not hog the road improperly. Do not steer or brake if a disturbance, such as
trailer sway or whipping, occurs. Get familiar with controls first, get help before you back up, get away
from the ramp before you raise it. If a disturbance occurs, let off the gas pedal; after a disturbance occurs,
check your blood and tire pressure. Failure to follow these instructions may result in death, dismemberment,
or bereavement. Carefully we buckled in the widow and her weeping. Made sure the children were properly restrained.
Do not pass on hills or curves, do not ride the brake pedal going downhill. Avoid turning too hard in gas stations
or parking lots. Do not, did not. Out the window, miles passed. We watched the lakes and the fir forests slide by.
In the cab we grieved, we planned. Drove defensively, tried to map what had gone wrong when he died,
so as not to make the same mistake. Did not want to be passengers wrongly riding in the freight compartment,
risking injury from shifting cargo, asphyxiation, lack of protection from tragedy. If the truck
gets stuck, you will be held responsible. Out the window, years slid by. Beside the road, trees lined up like dominoes.
Jennifer Bullis is the author of the chapbook Impossible Lessons (MoonPath Press) and of poems & essays appearing in Gulf Coast, Indiana Review, Terrain.org, and Water~Stone Review. She writes from Bellingham, Washington about long-distance foot travel, motherhood, horse-keeping, faith trouble, deforestation, repurposing myth, and women in the courtroom.