The Bear

On the journey to Sukhumi two weeks ago, I was no longer human, but merely a package on the Georgian Pony Express. The "pony" was loosely called a transport device (TD). More appropriately, I liken it to a torture device (TD).
There is a cable in the back seat of the TD and it fit perfectly on T-10 (that’s thoracic vertebra #10). The cable and my T-10 had 9 hours of intimate contact. My back will tell you the trip was 900 hours, but my back just likes to complain when it has been mauled.
The packages, whether they are square and corrugated like boxes , or soft and voluptuous like me, it mattered not, they were all treated the same, with expediency, tossed from one TD to the next, ker plop. Heave ho! And off you go!
Over the course of the 9 hours, there were 3 drivers. We would arrive at a check point, and transferto the next TD (all TDs had the same cable that fit in the same location on my back).
The borders are 'unstable', even though there is no active war-faring, Russian presence is visible. Tanks at major crossroads and at the borders. It is no nonsense travel here. The drivers are scared, the "packages" are just miserable.

The second driver of the day stopped at a little village where we ate lunch. In the parking area was a cage, a cage with a bear. The driver pointed over to the cage and said “Zoo”, in jest. The bear was sleeping. The driver says “sleeps all time”. I walk over to see the bear. As I approach, I notice a large hole in the wire mesh in the corner, indicating that probably at some point the bear chose to eat what was OUT of the cage instead of what was put IN the cage. So I approach with respect. Others walked by, and said, “bear sleep all time”. I could see respirations as his chest rose and fell, and lovely brown fur and a touch of silver mixed in. He was not dead, definitely asleep.
I walked up to the sleeping bear, and observed the sadness of this lovely caged animal, contained, for humans to gawk at will. It was chilly, we had already been through a blizzard and it was no longer snowing but wet, cold. I would be curled up sleeping if I were a bear too.

I said, in a corny southern accent, “Howdy Pardner, how ya doin’? Becha ain’t seen the likes of me round these parts in a coons age.”
His (I don’t really know if he was a he or a she) ear twitched. Life!!!! I stood and visited with THE BEAR a bit longer, telling him what I was doing, where I was going, and that I was very glad to meet a Russian Bear - (he looked just like those bears in the Russian circus - longer snout than our black bears or grizzlies). It was a one-way conversation , but very pleasant none the less. At least he wasn’t spewing some Abkhazian garble that I couldn’t understand. He was peaceful, and that made me peaceful.
And then, slowly, THE BEAR opens his sleepy eyes, and directs them to me. He knew exactly where I was, he did not need to lift his head. And I said, “ thanks for acknowledging my presence. Isn’t it true, we all have our burdens? I have my travails, the TD, you have yours, the cage. It is the nature of life. And when we share our burdens with one another somehow they seem to be lessened.”
He stared at me for a long time, his ear twitched again. I took that as a “Yes, I agree, we find comfort in the strangest places, with the strangest company sometimes. Journey well, crazy american babooska girl, I will see you on your way back.” His eyes closed.

I took minor offense at being called a babooska girl from the bear, but I understand my hair is graying, and so, fine, I’m a babooska girl.

He’s a babooska bear. And a very nice one.
The bear was the surprise gift on that otherwise grueling journey.

Genie
(any good novel, I hear The Kindly Ones is good.) I'm almost finished with all my reading materials. I will welcome any book.)