When I was a sophomore in high school my older sister moved to Southern Mississippi to get her master's degree. I'd call her up and ask her how things were going, tell her I missed her, all that jazz. We started doing this strange thing where we'd pretend that she wasn't across the country from me. I'd say something like, "so what are you doing tonight?" and she'd lie and say, "eh, nothing really." (I know now that she was lying because I, too, am getting my master's degree.) Then I'd say, "Well I was thinking of watching this movie... Wanna come over?" and she'd say, "sure, see you in a few minutes." And then we'd hang up the phone like she was really going to come over to watch a movie. There was never a movie and she never came, obviously, but we both liked to pretend for a while that it was possible. She lives in Wisconsin now and every once in a while, usually when one of us is having a bad day, we still pretend we're close enough to pop over to hang out.
Today I talked to a good friend and, even though she's also far away, she actually gets to pop over for a visit tomorrow. I'm so excited. Real visits are way better than pretend ones.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Some Perspective
His powerful legs work in time, quickly and powerfully charging up the hill. Everyone is depending on him to win, to fight, to try. Others may come, but right now he alone makes his way to the top of the hill to defend, to protect, to make a stand. Raising his front legs, he thrashes at the air, roars into the sky, and dares to be challenged.
The boy chuckles at the tiny ant dancing on the small mound of dirt. Squatting on his haunches and then lying down in the grass to get closer, the boy pulls out a magnifying glass from the back pocket of his dirty shorts; he watches the sun blaze through the glass.
The man smiles, watching the little boy patiently investigating some minuscule mystery in the grass with his little body lying still on the ground and his head raised, poised. He looked like a soldier ready to crawl under barbed wire or a rattlesnake ready to strike. The morning sun glints off of the man's belt buckle as he idly observes through the kitchen window. Sighing as he checks the time, he remembers when he was a boy and smiles again. Then the porcelain mug moves mechanically from his hand to meet his lips, and he is gulping down the black, bitter coffee.
The boy chuckles at the tiny ant dancing on the small mound of dirt. Squatting on his haunches and then lying down in the grass to get closer, the boy pulls out a magnifying glass from the back pocket of his dirty shorts; he watches the sun blaze through the glass.
The man smiles, watching the little boy patiently investigating some minuscule mystery in the grass with his little body lying still on the ground and his head raised, poised. He looked like a soldier ready to crawl under barbed wire or a rattlesnake ready to strike. The morning sun glints off of the man's belt buckle as he idly observes through the kitchen window. Sighing as he checks the time, he remembers when he was a boy and smiles again. Then the porcelain mug moves mechanically from his hand to meet his lips, and he is gulping down the black, bitter coffee.
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