Winter Solstice

It is late. It is dark. It is winter now, and the cold air of the night is creeping up his legs while his fingers type away.

It is dark, but a twinkling light on the tree outside catches the corner of his eye. Or was it a truck backing out of the driveway across the street? Or was it the streetlight?

It doesn't really matter. He lets the light twinkle. He finishes what he is doing. It doesn't matter, because it is cold and dark and late on this the longest nighttime of the year, and because his eyes cannot stay open any longer, and because his spouse will beat him to bed if he doesn't go right now.

7:30:56 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []  

There Once Was a Girl

Maybe you won't know what I am talking about. Or maybe you will. Like Sheila did. Like Chuqui did after her.

I can hear the echos in the stairways off to the side of the stage where we sat and we talked while others acted out their parts. And I can hear her words, and I remember her eyes and how she listened to what I said and how I craved that attention.

She had a non-speaking part. I had a non-speaking part. So we didn't have any lines to forget, no fear, no stress. But we sang, and we danced. She: Puerto Rico, you lovely island.... Me: a Shark dashing out onto a platform extending into the audience, chased by Jets.

We sang our hearts out. We dripped with sweat from the dancing. The simplicity of innocence. The joy of youth. Simplicity and joy from the vantage point of 30 years later. So although I can hear her words and remember her eyes, although I still sing the songs and treasure the memory of the dancing on stage, it is very good to be here now and not there then.

12:11:05 AM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []