No human suspected that the Queen of the Universe not only walked among them, but smoked Camel cigarettes and had a thing for swarthy men. Most humans weren’t aware that there was any such entity.
Most humans weren’t even aware of much beyond their own minds. That made things easy.
Well, not easy – it wasn’t easy to be born, or eat brussels sprouts, or to pass calculus in high school.
It wasn’t easy to see all sides and still pick one or two for the sake of propriety, or watch that promotion go to the sycophant, Boyle, when it should have been hers.
It wasn’t easy to have children, knowing they contained no integral part of her and would be unable to escape their human form and its transformations.
It wasn’t easy to get the right amount of cream and sugar in her coffee when using an unfamiliar cup.
It wasn’t easy to endure the suffering, the fear, the hatred and bitterness that swirled around her, nor was it easy to dismiss the love, compassion, empathy and hope that washed up, frothy and light, against the shores of her being.
It wasn’t easy to live as a human, but it was easy to hide amongst them.
It was also easy to make good on her self-made promise to not interfere in any grand way, any Queenly way. She had merged into the stream of human life to become. Now that she was being, it was slightly exhilarating. There was only a moment before this body died, in probably another 40 years, and the Queen of the Universe would return to herself with no regrets. The humans would continue into their future, as curious and crazy as ever. She didn’t know or really care what became of them, but this moment would be stored within her – which was an honor, whether they knew it or not.
She only cheated in one area, and then only occasionally. When she found herself outside and the conditions were right – she would whisper with her true voice to the wind. She would flatter it with attention and praise; caress it with her knowledge on the beauty of its ever-changing flow. In return the wind would play with her, cool her brow, weave itself through her hair and tease the soles of her feet. She enjoyed the wind more than anything else.
She knew that the humans wouldn’t appreciate that the wind gave her more enjoyment than any individual, idea or emotion. She was the Queen of the Universe, and while all lifeforms were interesting and memorable, her greatest memory of this planet would not be the charming smile of the butcher, or the discordant singing of a child in the bathtub, or the voluminous works of writers past and present.
She would miss the wind.