Play Nice

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Thanks,
Patricia

Briefly

[This is where the summary would go if I'd bothered to write one.]

« Week IIIWeek IV »
Nowhere I’d rather be

I.

There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here. I tell myself that every day. Maybe one of these days I’ll believe it. It’s not so bad here really. I’ve had worse. But I’ve never had better and I’d like to. I have to believe there’s better otherwise what’s the point? I might as well just give up and live my days walking from street corner to street corner counting the cracks in the sidewalks. I used to deliberately step on the cracks as a child, but before you think that I was a horrible child let me tell you that my mother died during childbirth. Or that’s what I’ve been told. I think maybe she just didn’t want to stick around to deal with the every day details of raising a child. I know I wouldn’t. Day in and day out the same old thing. Constant anxieties and pains and for what? To be left alone after 20 years of servitude to live my old age alone and forgotten? No thank you. That kind of life isn’t for me. But that’s the only thing I’ve been able to rule out. There are still dozens and dozens of other things on my life’s ‘to do’ list. And that’s why I think there’s better, you see. This here is just a temporary pit stop. A blip, a nanosecond during which I’m gathering my thoughts and evaluating my options. That’s why I’m not too worried. Oh sure, people often seem anxious when I tell them I have plenty of time to do all the things I want to do. But their problem lies in the fact that they have no hope. No dreams. No desires beyond getting back into bed at the end of a long day. But I have hope. I have aspirations. I have a list and a pen and I’ve already checked off a couple of things and I’ve ruled out another, so I’m well on my way. To where you ask? I’ll send you a postcard once I get there.

II.

There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here. That’s what he used to tell me. Every day when I woke up I’d find him staring down at me and he’d smile and kiss me on the forehead and say, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here.” It got so that if I didn’t hear it my day would be incomplete. It took a long time for me to believe him and maybe that’s why he got into the habit of saying it to me every day. You’d think it’d get hokey or tired after awhile, but it never did. When we made love he’d gently move about my body whispering the words along the way. I would feel the soft rush of air agaisnt my skin, the slight touch of his lips as he said, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here or here or here and here.” And I’d close my eyes and let myself believe it all to be true. And that was my mistake. Not in believing, but in closing my eyes. In forgetting that moments like those are stolen moments. That nothing lasts longer than a breath. I’m not trying to be melodramatic. I haven’t holed myself up in some dark room with the dust settling about me as the air grows stale. I get up each day and I interact with the necessary people. I even laugh. And I’ve certainly cried. I’ve cried a lot, but my life hasn’t stopped and neither would I wish it to. However, I’ve yet to have a complete day.

III.

There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here. Man! Look around. It looks like everybody’s here. There’s Jimmy and Thomas. Remember them? Fuck those guys were crazy. You think they’ll do that thing with the superglue and lighter? Do you have a lighter? Damn it! What do you mean you quit smoking? Since when? Fuck. Don’t tell me you’re buying into all that second hand smoke shit. We’re getting old man. When did we start caring about shit like that? Look, there’s Mandy. Think she’ll remember me? I don’t think she will. Do you know how much money it took to talk that dork Steve out of including that picture of me puking on her shoes in the yearbook? Thank god she was plastered man. Tony told me she bitched about her ruined shoes to all of her friends, but nobody would tell her what happened. After a while she started believing she’d puked on herself. How great is that? What do you mean you want to leave already? What the fuck for? There’s no better place to be than here. What else you got going on tonite? Ever since Lorraine dumped you all you want to do is stay home. Aw man. Don’t give me that bullshit. I see the way you walk around all mopey and shit. You’re like the 8th dwarf or something. Damn that’s funny. I have to remember that one. Come on. Just another hour. We didn’t come to the five year reunion because you’d just broken up with Maggie and you didn’t want to see her. Now you’re letting this thing with Lorraine bum you out. You know what you need to do? You need to lay off women for a while. Get your head straight. Figure shit out. Come on. There’s Lumpy. Let’s go see if he has a lighter. He looks like he’d be willing to start something up in here.

****
shoot. The third one is pure crap but I’m too tired to fix it. I don’t even think it’s fixable and probably shouldn’t post it, but then I’d be missing one. sigh. Since it’s a little writing exercise I made up for myself you’d think I’d be able to bend this one rule, but I can’t. Although it’s always kind of bugged me that it’s an odd number. I like even numbers so much better, but doing only two didn’t seem like enough and four is way too many so 3 it will have to be. At least this proves I’m not totally neurotic.

Better get to sleep as it doesn’t look like it’s going to snow enough for the office to close tomorrow. shoot.

Published 02/27/03 in Writing • | Views: 1973 times | Print

2 Comments & Trackbacks



hmm. I haven’t been to any one of my high school reunions so I don’t know how true it is…I’ll have to take your word for it.

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  02/28  at  11:45 AM

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