Sunday, May 21, 2017

Time, As Few Of Us Know It



Kids grow up so fast. In the blink of an eye.

The days are long, the years are short. And so on.

Blah, blah.

Kids grow up so fast except when they don't.

And when they don't, the years are pretty damn long.

Truisms are truisms, but not for everybody.


From the archives:
The Best Thing Somebody Never Said To Me

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Good plan, well executed


The dry air will greet me on the way inside of the apartment. I will turn on the lights because even though it's midday, it's dark.

The rain boots will come off first. I always go about stocking foot in the house but this time the socks will probably go in the hamper. It's fine. There are plenty more in the drawer.

The coat will hang in the shower. Liberated from this damp garment, I'll move on to my favorite part. I'll place my hat and gloves splayed out on the radiator. Later when it's time to go out again they'll be warm and ready.

I'll open my umbrella and place it, away from the leaky faucet in the tub. I liked leaning it in the hallway outside my apartment until management sent a curt note to everyone that we aren't allowed to do that. Whatever.

From the look of things I will also take stock of my backpack. Water resistant as it is, this has been a major insult. The bag itself will dry effectively near the radiator. Affected contents will be lined up carefully next to the hat and gloves.

They will look like neat casualties but not for long. The radiators here run very hot.

All will be well. The wet chill I feel on the train and walk home is mitigated by the plan. It keeps me contained.

Earlier today, before any of this with the lights, the radiator and the socks, I'll have an appointment. I will arrive a little early and take extra care with my wet things. I'll spy a closet in the waiting room. This one won't be locked and I'll open it to find a sea of hangers and hooks. I will hang my coat and the gloves will go on one hook and the hat on the other. I'll place my wet umbrella in the receptacle provided.

The waiting room will be full of resources to help me manage myself and a nervous system that seems to need some measure of calm protection.

I'll think about leaving the wet boots in the closet, but decide to wear them in. Going about without shoes here will seem both inappropriate and presumptuous.

As I leave the appointment and begin hatching my transition plan, I will see a four year old boy come out of a fancy coffee place with his mom. The mom will be understanding and careful. She'll patiently hold the umbrella perfectly over his head.

The boy will stop upon exiting the shop. He'll look at the rain coming down in torrents, vast bucketfuls sliding off of the high end awning above his head. He will erupt into what could only be called a classic case of screaming and crying. 


I will feel a pang for him. Poor little dude, I'll say to myself as I slosh toward the subway.

From the archives:
The New Environs
Emotional Support From The Security Guard
Rain

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Chicken Scratch


The first things I wrote were hard. Touching the words would give you splinters. Tumbleweeds blew through. Then the locusts came.

Later everything softened. Think of watercolor. The words became porous. I became that way too. It wasn't like things were necessarily better. But I did have a bigger bank of words and colors for it - for you.

I thought about doing some new writing about what you said and what happened. I didn't. Not everything needs to be written down.

Now you're wondering if it's you. The question hangs out there between us. That's fair. If I were you I'd do that too.

In the end, it doesn't matter. Not really. It is about somebody. But in a way it could be about anyone.


From the archives:
The Hatchet Job

Sunday, April 30, 2017

All of the roads, they did lead here



The landline rang. I picked it up. I have zero time she said. But I just had to call and congratulate you.

Oh wow, so he told you, I said. Word travels fast.

I'm sitting with him now, she said. Her voice sounded emotional. Like maybe she was trying to contain her tears.

Just tell me one thing, she said. What was it like to open the envelope?

There is no hesitation. I don't even have to think about it.

It felt like this, I said. I knew in that moment that he had every opportunity open to him. There is nothing closed to him going forward.

Oh my god, she said. Oh my god.

That is exactly what you people set out to do there, I told her. You see potential. This is as much your victory as his.

He worked hard but so did all of you, I added.

And you, she said. You worked very hard too.

That's true. I laughed. Then we said a nice goodbye.

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The High Cost Of Being Me