She looked beautiful, free, standing on the bench. The breeze tangled her brown curls and the sun burst into a smile on her face. The open plain was almost a challenge for her grace.
"When I was younger, I used to think that if I stood on a chair and thought hard enough I would fly away," she told me.
I smiled, watching her from her blanket in the long grass. It was warm out, and she had on a white polka-dotted red dress. I had on a yellow and white button down. We were on a picnic.
The bench was part of a table, one of those stereotypical wooden ones. It looked odd there, in the field, with nothing but grass for miles in any direction. I asked her how she knew about this place.
"I used to come here sometimes. When I got older I stopped thinking I could fly, but I still liked the idea of it, and I love the wind in my face. So, I would come here, on summer days like this, and fly my kite and think about what it's like to be up so high."
She turned to face me then, and I caught my breath in the silhouette of her head. I waved her over, and held her hand.
***
I still think we can fly, but I don't want to be the kite. They fly high, but they are always one string away from being free. I want to soar unfettered, unchained, emancipated. Come soar with me?
"Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart." – Confucius
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
He Puts Pen To Paper
Resolved: That the consumption of alcohol by minors leads to inappropriate actions.
Contingent 1: Last night. I went over to his place, where the drinks were already made. He was waiting for me. I believe vodka has an adverse taste.
Contingent 2: We took a shot of what could have been nail polish remover- I hear they're practically the same- and chased it with more of the same. Production was sidelined for video games.
Contingent 3: After orange juice and pink lemonade, I certainly was open to anything. Meaning, I believe I professed my love to him.
But! there are things to be said to the contrary.
1: The drinks, though bad, gave openness to our conversation.
2: For a holiday, what could be more productive, more American, than to drink and play?
3: At least now he knows I love him, and that is certainly something.
And although I drink to get drunk. And although I hate the taste. And although they had more fun, in the spray of a sprinkler chase. There is something worthwhile in being close. There is something of note to note. That although we make some mistakes, acknowledging our loves was not one last night.
Contingent 1: Last night. I went over to his place, where the drinks were already made. He was waiting for me. I believe vodka has an adverse taste.
Contingent 2: We took a shot of what could have been nail polish remover- I hear they're practically the same- and chased it with more of the same. Production was sidelined for video games.
Contingent 3: After orange juice and pink lemonade, I certainly was open to anything. Meaning, I believe I professed my love to him.
But! there are things to be said to the contrary.
1: The drinks, though bad, gave openness to our conversation.
2: For a holiday, what could be more productive, more American, than to drink and play?
3: At least now he knows I love him, and that is certainly something.
And although I drink to get drunk. And although I hate the taste. And although they had more fun, in the spray of a sprinkler chase. There is something worthwhile in being close. There is something of note to note. That although we make some mistakes, acknowledging our loves was not one last night.
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