Analyze that.

I laced up my Converse and walked out the door, grocery list in hand.
"Hamburger, mac & cheese, PBR, shampoo. Hamburger, mac & cheese, PBR, shampoo." I couldn't forget the shampoo again.

The rain made the already snow laced ground slushy and awful. I should have picked better shoes. Maybe those rain boots with the peacocks would have been a good investment. Oh well, hindsight is 20-20, right? All precipitation aside, I parked my little red car and headed toward the sliding glass doors into the ridiculously sterile vacuum that was Hyvee.

It was there I saw the man with a thick rope wrapped around his hand, twisting, fraying, tightening around his hand as the object at the other end pulled further and further from the glass doors. My hand could only reach the top of his hard, angular legs. The rest of him was brown and white, soft and like cotton. He turned his head and smiled at me with a toothy grin that melted my heart.

I turned to the old man with the rope and asked why he would bring such a creature out in public. He responded, "This is Henry he's a rare giant purebred South Carolinan Ostrich but, he's defective. Won't produce any eggs that I can eat and he throws a fit every time I try to eat him. So, I don't want him. He's just a waste of space in my barn. I'll sell him to ya for $10. I'll even throw in a saddle for when you want to feel like a queen."

I crumpled the grocery list in my sweaty palm as the rain picked up and threw it in the trash can as I handed the old man my $10 bill. I grabbed the fraying rope and wrapped it around my left hand as threw the saddle up onto Henry's back with my right. And together we headed home, without the hamburger, mac & cheese, PBR, or shampoo.

The beeping of my alarm pulled me awake as I grasped at the tail of my dream, making a desperate, but failing attempt, to hold onto Henry.