No matter when I see you, day or night Your phone is never out of sight On the left or on the right Your glance is drawn to the light Every ping, ding, and ring is acknowledged You’re so afraid you’ll miss some knowledge But what you fail to see is you are losing me I feel unimportant compared to the tones And the bright light emanating from your phone Yet when we are apart My pings, dings, and rings go unanswered It makes me feel so substandard The hurt goes straight to my heart Inside I’m falling apart Your actions show how little you care And I’m reminded of how life is unfair For you are more to me than I am to you This your actions have proven true I should’ve just stayed home For there I wouldn’t be staring at you Staring at your phone And still feel all alone……
She stood in disbelief as he walked
out the door. Tears streamed down her face. She paced. She had no clue what to
do. She stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room looking at
the back door from which he just left.
She stood in disbelief as the
policemen walked in her front door. Tears streamed down her face. She paced.
She had no clue what to do. She didn’t hear a word. She stood in the doorway
between the hallway and the living room looking into the kitchen and at the
back door from which he left.
She stood in disbelief as people
filed passed her. No tears fell down her face. She didn’t pace. She had no clue
what to do. She stood, accepting condolences and listening to stories that
brought others joy, picturing the back door from which he left.
She stood in disbelief as everyone
walked slowly to their cars. Tears once again fell down her face. She didn’t
pace, she didn’t move. She had no clue what to do. She stood, in silence – head
lowered and shoulders hunched, looking into the deep dark hole and picturing
the back door from which he left.
She stood in disbelief in the front
yard of those she called family. She wiped away her tears. She walked slowly to
the front door. She had no clue what to do. She walked in, silently, and watched
people talk, mingle, eat, and laugh. She stood against the wall and looked
through the living room into the kitchen at a back door he once used and
sighed.
She stood in disbelief outside on the
porch looking the back door. Tears once again flowing freely down her face.
Hand on the doorknob, shaking. She couldn’t move. She had no clue what to do.
With a deep breath she opened the door. She walked over the threshold into
their home, alone. The first of many times to come, she realized. Closing the door, the room enveloped her. In
that instance she became so aware of the vast emptiness of her soul. She turned
and stared at the back door from which he left.
She held her breath has she looked out her third-floor
window. She was waiting, anxiously, to see him walking down the street toward
her house. She was both excited and nervous. “Would she be able to sneak him
in?” she asked herself as she took turns pacing the length of her bedroom floor
and looking out the window. “Will the stairs creak?” and “Will my parents wake
up?” were two other questions that crossed her mind as she waited. Her worries
quickly disappeared when she saw the tall figure walking purposefully down the
street. She waited by the window until the figure made it to the sidewalk in
front of her house. She let out her breath, turned and crossed her room toward
the door.
She quietly made her way down the stairs from her bedroom in the dark. Turning on the light would certainly wake her parents. Counting each step as she went, avoiding the broken one, she excitingly touched the 13th, and last, step in silence. She quietly made her way from the bottom step through the short hallway past her parents’ room and through the kitchen to the door. She saw his silhouette through the glass. He was waiting patiently in the dark. His journey, up a flight of old creaky narrow steps, was a success as well.
She slowly opened the door to let him in, avoiding the creak
that is usually there. She had to stop and stare. So tall, so handsome. He had
some years on her, some more wisdom, and some more experience. She gazed at him
in wonder, amazed he was even at her door. She shook her head – “Snap out of
it!” she thought. She quickly refocused her attention on the task at hand, getting
back up the stairs to her bedroom with him in tow.
She closed the door and they moved silently and swiftly,
following the same path she took only a few minutes earlier, towards the
stairs. He was tall, so dreamily tall, that he had to duck under the door frame
that led to the third-floor bedroom which, until this night, he had never seen
before. With expert steps, they made their way quietly up those 13 steps to her
bedroom. Once inside, they closed the door. Their bodies, tense with anxiety,
finally showed signs of relaxing.
“What now?” she thought. It seemed, now, that getting him in
her bedroom was the easy part. What did she expect to happen now? “What does he
expect?” she thought to herself. Conversation that was easy and free-flowing
during the day, with their friends in public, was now nonexistent. “Who should
speak first?” she thought. An uneasy feeling, a nervousness, flooded over her. Self-doubt
filled her thoughts. She now questioned her decisions from the invitation to
the opening of the door. Then he turned around and all her uneasiness melted
away.
All this time, he was unaware of what she was thinking and
feeling. He was removing his coat, putting down his bag, and getting ready to
sit down at her desk in the hard chair. It was the chair or the bed, and
choosing the chair made all her nervousness subside for the moment. He sat and
gazed at her. She looked back at him. She sat on the bed and the conversation
that was nonexistent only a few seconds ago came easily now. The room melted
away for her. It didn’t matter where they were. She felt comfortable now. There
was no worry about expectations or concern about why he was here or what would
happen next.
They talked, for what seemed liked hours, about everything.
He was so smart. He loved to read. He knew Shakespeare and could quote Hamlet. He wrote sonnets and poems,
experimenting with short meaningful memories and feelings. He was mysterious to
her, he captured not only her attention but her intrigue. He would soon capture
her heart as well.
He got up to stretch. She did the same. The clock read 3:45
am. They had been talking for three hours. He asked where the bathroom was. It
was off the kitchen, down those stairs and close to her parents’ bedroom. Was
that a trip he was willing to make? Would it be better for him to just head for
the door instead of trying to make it down and then up those stairs again?
These were all questions they tossed back and forth quietly at the top of the
stairs, just outside her bedroom door.
He wanted to stay with her longer, so he decided he would
risk the trip down and back up those stairs. He went alone and quietly, ducking
to avoid hitting his head on the door frame at the bottom the stairs. His
return trip was quick, but no so quiet because he forgot to duck, and he hit
his head. He did make it back up the stairs and into the safety of her bedroom,
head in hand.
She closed the door. She held back her smile. After all, she
did warn him about having to duck. She asked him to move his hand, so she could
see his head. He sat down in the chair, she crossed the room towards him. He
moved his hand, she parted his hair. He looked up at her, put his hands around
her waist and pulled her close. She let out a little gasp. She looked down at
him, met his gaze, and held her breath…….
Having finally driven the perilous length of a narrow dirt
road filled with ruts and rocks through a forest, the pavement was a welcome
sight. It only took us a little over an hour to make that drive, but it felt a
lot longer. Because the car’s undercarriage hit several rocks as I was driving
down the dirt road, as soon as the four wheels touched the paved road, I
stopped so that I could check for any damages.
I opened the car door, stepped outside, and took a breath,
but before I could even close the door to start my inspection, I heard
something. I turned to look and saw a goat, a very big goat. It was larger than
most goats, with a head higher than my waist. It was grey and white with horns,
and it was coming in my direction at a steady pace. I stood still next to my
car, which was between me and the goat. I was hoping the goat didn’t see me and
would just keep going, focused on something else. I held my breath. The goat
let out a bleat which echoed. That bleat alerted everyone in the car to look
for what I already saw. As they turned to look, more goats started coming from
the woods that we just left. They headed our way and I was urged to get into
the car.
I couldn’t get in the car without checking underneath to
make sure there were no leaks or other damage that might get us stuck somewhere
else along our Saturday adventure route through the backroads of Connecticut’s
small towns. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “They’re goats, what harm could
they do?”
I preceded to get down on one knee and bend to look under
the car next to my door. As I looked under the car, I saw four goat feet on the
other side. I held my breath and kept looking under the car moving from the
front wheel to just before the back wheel. Then I felt it. A hot nose on my
back. Well, I was hoping it was a hot nose. And a goat’s nose. I turned my head
slowly to the right and sure enough I was looking right into the lowered face
of the grey and white goat. I slowly got up and the goat nudged me. I was now
up against my car. We were surrounded by goats. Okay, we felt surrounded, but
there was only four of them – but they were huge and perfectly positioned to
block every door and me from moving.
“What could it hurt?” I said quietly to myself as I reached
my hand out to touch the goat. The goat’s coat was fine and course, rough to
the touch. I don’t know if the goat was enjoying being touched, but there was
no sign of discomfort nor any movement to get away from my hand. I continued to
pet the goat and encourage the others to roll their windows down to pet the
goats that hung out by their doors. We couldn’t move, both because the goats
weren’t moving – my four-legged road blocks – and because I wanted to finish
looking at the underside of my car. We had the time, so what harm could a
little goat petting do? Everyone in the car rolled their windows down and began
to pet their goat.
While petting my goat, I heard “Hello!” and saw a gentleman
approaching. He was coming from the red house, which was a ways off the paved
road we were stopped in the middle of. He stepped onto the pavement and headed
straight for the car. When he arrived, he asked if his goats were bothering us.
“Of course not!” we all replied. He asked if we were lost, if everything was
okay, and where we were going. I explained that we were kind of lost, but that
was all part of enjoying our Saturday adventure.
With a wave of his hand, the goats wandered away, back into
the woods from which they came. He began talking to my passengers as I bent
back down and continued to inspect the underside of the car. We had been parked
long enough for the pavement to show any leaks, and the pavement under my car
was dry. I sighed and whispered, “Thank God.” I’ll take the few scratches as
mementos of the road less traveled.
I walked back around the car to the passenger side to join
the conversation. The gentleman asked, “Car trouble?” I responded, “Thankfully
not, especially since we hit bottom a couple times on that dirt road.” He exclaimed,
“You came from there?” pointing at the dirt road behind us, “In that?” I
replied, “Yes, sir!” His mouth was agape. He was amazed we made it down that
road and told us only trucks use it and not very often. He was surprised that
the road was passable for a minivan and still connected at the other end to a
paved road. I told him I had no choice but to go forward because there was no
place wide enough turn around, and I wasn’t driving out backwards. He chuckled.
We all shook hands and exchanged pleasant goodbyes. He
wished us well and told us to enjoy the rest of our journey. I thanked him for
letting us pet his goats and got into my car. I turned the key and waved
goodbye has he walked back down the driveway to his house. The red house, the
rock walls, and the tree-lined dirt road slowly started to disappear in my
rearview mirror as I drove toward home looking for a quaint place to stop and
eat and relive our adventure.