My quasi/pseudo fiction titled balms away

originally written June 10th, 2018
Never could this prattling dada adjust to “empty nest” syndrome (he considered a bord den), despite natural declaration of independence, either of two beloved daughters took, who trod divergent paths (measure for) measure with much ado about nothing to attain singular autonomy.
Language usage the perfect analogous engine and tonic re: incorporating universalistic, therapeutic, opportunistic, holistic, and cathartic personal choice modus operandi vis a vis coping method to allow, enable, and provide adjustment since (the smallest possible) even number of offspring figuratively flew (without being chicken) the coop.
Thus, thy near limitless imagination took refuge in conjuring means to harness this then melancholic feeling.
Sadness ofttimes (more so in mine recent writing past, which coincided with trials and tribulations of assessing completed fatherhood) helped expunge, shoe away, and soften hard heart hardening like leaden albatross that weighed upon psyche.
An aha moment arose soothing this inconsolable ache, especially to bear witness, when thee youngest poised to graduate from Redmond Proficiency Academy sans the evening of Friday May 26th, 2017.
Courtesy of an overactive imagination, this dada could practically will himself to be (and or course not to be living in a Shakespearean hamlet, per chance shaped like a Globe bull omelet, where measure for measure all's well that ends well as you like it) in the presence of those whose absence affects me the most.
Aside from the mental equivalent of a clowning magician possessing wizardry zeal, a secret channel existed for me to experiment as a “guinea pig” to bring wishful thoughts into fruition.
So without further delay (explaining general information about this prosaically protective proud papa), I cut to the virtual paper chase and apply the remaining words to self-taught exploit to travel at the speed of greased lightning.
Whether the weather perfect or inclement, this middle-aged father follows strict safety guidelines.
Additionally, true to the postal employee motto, (which maxim faithfully, dutifully, and benevolently taken to heart whenever I did dull liver mail, a job that comprised my working career since age eighteen until forced retirement, neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night will stay this fatherly courier from his swift completion of self appointed roundly nada impossible mission to a light like a bolt to Bend, Oregon.
Thus, dexterous fingers intuitively, instinctively, and busily circled round my heavily padded faux santa claus size waist, where the Kuiper belts got buckled, Asteroid clasps cinched, and Dwarf men uber zippers drawn snugly into a custom fit pod like contraption.
Elaborate panels of buttons, knobs, and switches appeared when this air borne civilian ready to blast off into the great beyond.
Aeronautical engineering avocation well versed in the pseudo rigor mortis stasis, sans keeping this five feet and ten inch athletic body rigid for untold hours (yes, or even days at a stretch) amateur astronaut, Cosmo (funneling) naught, and English major trained me to the precautions when a human being approached the velocity of light.
Extraterrestrial futuristic gewgaw hedged intrusion of extreme atmospheric pressure.
Intubation asper nutriment (even though the journey across the celestial vault, would practically clock more than a few minutes), the sheer excitement to surprise the punim compromised an ordinarily hearty appetite.
I would not miss attending the academic achievement of thee offspring fraught with mastering rudimentary particle physics for the world wide web, which aptitude she, (who refers to herself as Shay) acquired with flying colors.
Hence, thru thick or thin, hell or high water, this practitioner viz laissez-faire promised himself to take a bold risk.
Ooh, a shiver did tingle down the small hairs of my back at the utter pleasant shock of surprise, when this joyously earthlinked capital one amusing chap would spring out from some secluded spot after the pomp and circumstance of the tearful feted milestone made manifest when this class of two thousand and seventeen exploded with joie de vivre at the special stepping stone.
Though told to thine charmingly fond, indubitably loved, and officiously regaled unpretentiously young woman that neither this conniving father, nor idealistic languorous otherwise rational uber xing missus would attend this once in a lifetime poignant performance, the playful goniff within this overgrown “boy” found schemes to transcend, triumph and trump the travails defying overcoming odds to attain sought after goal.
Prior to embarking on near blink oven nigh transportation, a deathly stillness sans pall cast dark shadows where me countenance strove to bask as like a avast limned idyllic patch, now invisible jack hammers chattering within the usual tour de force core of droning heart wrenching torment, which triggered an unstoppable, invincible, and inconsolable biblical geyser of tears streaming down me smooth shaven cheeks.
Sudden pangs of nostalgia for the salad days (yes, they got unexpectedly, maddeningly and frequently tossed – boot lettuce turnip vines frankly zapping this despairing biological beastie cry boy i.e. “sir”) akin to a basket case of one deplorable whimpering, sniffling, and oozing remembrance of fragmentary occasions when the girls erupted (like puppies yowling, yipping, and yawping with dog gone excitement) at the mere mention to spend time at their favorite “sand” playground.
How such simple and basic activities ushered forth an untrammeled vivacity wakening the child within myself (more’n a doe zen full moons ago), a flashback that rent asunder any attempt to activate the podcast, which flashback appeared to predominate a formerly giddy state of mind.
Though disheartened with scattered mental debris (and an importance to validate than vitiate this dismal deep seated depression), an all out attempt (my very mediocre college try plumbing the depths courtesy mine temple mount) made to launch self into the void.
Just when dark shadows blackened all hope seemed lost in space at the outer limits of the twilight zone, (and the once in a billion – er…a slight hyperbolic statement… - chance to assimilate, bask cerebrally, divinely evoke fascination gamete hopscotch invoked, journey kindling life manifesting nameless outcome, prithee, queen royally slumbering tonight), the alt-rock totally tubular voodoo wresting yik yak (paddy whack give this dog a bone) zoomed into warp speed woof out any commands barked into the voice processing gizmodo.
Off went this sole sailor, soldier, and tinker toy spy zipping away into the heart of darkness.
The sheer blindingly crushing velocity (faster than posted speed limit) stretched the starlight into infinity, whereat the vacuum of deep space nine vector of space/time continuum produced Doppler effect, this low-pitched threshold wham (bam thank you ma'am) could be felt as being heard.
Aside from the fleeing rainbow gathering far into the distant Cosmos, a barrage of hail size residue (possibly from an aborted planet that never materialized, or perhaps one potential “Mother Earth” miscarried), this comfortably numb skull of mine with a neck row feeling immovable like a led zeppelin, tautly tethered torso, nonetheless, a basic human instinct invited a wave of rapturous, luscious, and joyous delight suffused this humble being.
How grand (when nowhere near the finale) to extol firsthand, this great homogeneous uniformity throughout the vastness encompassing, incorporating, and manufacturing a kaleidoscope of colors that blended into one prime mortally a self coined metaphorical soupy egg drop broth.