jumpingfish

He ate an egg salad sandwich for lunch—his favorite. So the day was going well. He decided to drive into town to get a couple books from the university library.

He turned right out of the parking lot. The highway into town was just a couple blocks away … um, except that it was actually a half mile in the other direction (strike 1). No problem, he thought, he’d just U-turn at the light … um, except that the traffic at that light is always busy, and it’s a dangerous place to U-turn (strike 2).

Whatever. It was just a mile or so out of his way, … um, except for the several red lights he had to sit at (strike 3). Still, before long he was on the highway.

On the other side of the river, he took the Fifth Street exit … um, except that to get to the university he wanted Fifteenth (strike 4). No problem, he thought, he’d just be patient and drive thru town, … um, except more red lights (strike 5).

When he got to campus, he found a parking meter in the place where he usually parks. He got out of his car and was about to feed the meter when he decided to make sure that his university library guest card was still valid. (It was the beginning of the year, after all.) The card was had expired the week before (strike 6).

Now, to renew the card, you need a state library sharing card, and he had one … um, except that it also expired the week before (strike 7). Still, the main public library was not to far away, although as for that he had passed it on his slog thru town (strike 8).

So he got back into his car and drove off in the direction of the public library. He turned on Fifteenth Street and was merging left to turn onto Lamar when he … um … realized that the library is on Guadalupe not Lamar (strike 9). No problem, though, he just turned left and left again and then right and soon was pulling into a parking meter just feet from the main entrance to the main public library.

Inside they renewed his public library card and handed him a form to fill out for the state library sharing card. He filled out the form, and the woman took it and smiled and then looked up and said, “Oh, do you know we have a new policy for these cards, sir? We no longer issue them right away. We’ll mail you your new state library sharing card in about a week.” (Strike 10.)

Ten strikes and he was out. He smiled and said, “Thank you,” and folded his book list and put it into his pocket.

But that egg salad sandwich sure was tasty!

“Gabby opened her eyes for the first time.”

hat tip: [TPM]

The sunshine is slanting down from the blue eastern sky. The thriving kale is glowing greenly in the light, and the lettuce and spinach and radishes are peeping up above the soil.

The dog is barking and carrying his blue dog toy to and fro. And now it’s his magenta monkey. And now he’s barking as we dance and sing to Stevie Wonder with long yellow beams of morning light reaching across the floor.

And now the boy is up. And he’s getting ready to go. And we’ve got our sweaters on and are getting a leash for the dog.

And now we’re leaving. Going to get breakfast tacos just down the street.

Happy New Year to you all.

…slam!…

“Dad?” he called from the dining room.

“Yes…?” I answered from the study.

“Is it ok if I stay at college for sixteen years?”

I didn’t say a thing.

“… There are so many good classes.”

I laughed, remembering how I used to get all dreamy and itchy as I leafed thru the course catalog when I was in school. I got up and walked into the dining room.

He had papers spread out on the table before him, papers covered with scribblings: BIOL, POLT, SOCI, ECON, ENVS, HISP. And the browser on his computer had several windows open showing graduation requirements and course descriptions and the schedule for next semester.

He pointed to a class that had caught his eye.  A sociology class: Alcohol and culture.

Hmmm.

…

Well anyway, Happy New Year to you!

The sky was cloudy gray. A breeze was blowing out of the south. Fog clung to the ground.

He was running around in 400 meter circles. Red jacket and blue shorts. His dog trotting faithfully beside. He was alone. Surrounded by silence.

The bell at the elementary school rang as he began. The school was empty. No kids. No teachers. No cars in the parking lot. The ringing rolled across the fog-covered field, where he heard it as jogged otherwise in silence.

Four laps, then a rest for a bit. The dog looking up at him wondering when they were going to start again. Then four more laps. In the fog. Under the gray sky. In the quiet. Alone out there with nothing but his dog and the wind for company.

The bell at the middle school rang as he finished. That school was empty, too. No kids. No teachers. No cars in the parking lot. The ringing rolled across the field, where he heard it as he stood there in the straight-away sweating. And the dog looked up at him wondering what was going to come next.

Time to walk back home.