2009-08-21
So special
I think that one of my greatest loves may be to watch the swirl of smoke that arises after I blow out a candle, watch it spiral upward and elegantly shrink and engorge.
To my left on the nightstand there is a frayed five inches of Martiza�s shoelace. It is one of many objects scattered on this nightstand right now, next to a Belle figurine I once bought with Thom at a garage sale, a small candle silently glowing, my hippo alarm clock, and my glass case, tilted over and hinged ajar.
The lace pulled apart once as she yanked upon it to tie her shoe. I had Kevin tie it as a bracelet on my wrist, but it fell off twice. I�ve still managed, without much effort, to keep track of it. It�s weird to think how these people waltz right in and out of your lives, like one of those group dances in a movie based on a Jane Austen novel where everyone dances with everyone else�s partner for a bit before trading again. Or maybe like square dancing, but I�m not sure because I haven�t actually square danced. But there�s this whole metaphor there, of course, about how you�re with each other for just a moment, given the cross paths and shared circumstance, and then stuff changes, the beat goes on, and it�s on to the next, and you are left with the memories. I really liked these people, and I kind of hope I can keep the best parts of them, or even just any parts of them, really; the important, human, poignant parts especially I guess, and carry these pieces of them with me. Isn�t that what we all want? Just to take the best of those whom we do-si-do with, and hopefully give them a little something to take with them as well.
I want to remember their kindness, the small things, naturally, like the hamburgers Bianca made with love, and how Maritza waited for me as I got my bike, and how Kevin made me feel like I could ask him to do anything, really anything, and it wouldn�t be imposing and he would be glad to help. There were so many of these true kindness. I enjoy these things, I want to carry them with me wherever I go, I want to remember how Bianca would to crazy song-and-dance routines just to amuse me, how Maritza left me a balloon on my bike. The balloon said, �You are So special.� It wasn�t just these three. People are wonderful, and I probably won�t be seeing them again; it was a temporary brush of the shoulders. But I want to remember.
leesah-likes at 1:25 a.m.