Mar 6, 2002
I feel as if I have been old for so long. And now I am...youthening? Time rolls backward. Your hair gets in your face. A fixed expression of concern fades into careless laughter. You reach for the onion rings, no longer worried if everyone else has had their fair share. Who cares what's fair. And you think about wearing roller skates. The kind with four wheels and a toe stop. And you argue about where the best pizza is. And the best hot dog. And you stop thinking about what time it is. It seems later than it is, but it makes no difference. You catch yourself looking around more. Seeing more. Making more eye contact. You catch yourself wondering things. You catch yourself judging. And the night envelops you like a thick blanket of drizzle and rain smell and shiny asphalt. Like a big thick blanket you clutch around you -- the way you might if you were out in the mountains camping and you needed to get up for something in the middle of the night.
You think about camping in winter. You think about plans you once made. You think about opportunities you missed. And you shrug. And you tell yourself it doesn't matter. The thought, "I have plenty of time," doesn't even bother to occur to you. It's irrelevant. You work hard. You sigh. You stretch. You make things nice for everyone. You plan for giddiness. You forget to write things in your calendar. You dismiss grudges. You lose track of them. You stop asking why.
You have steaks in your freezer and eggs in your fridge. You're set.
posted by Mary Forrest at 11:16 PM | Back to Monoblog