We were talking about her roommates who are vegetarians, and then she wasn’t wearing pants which of course she needed to inform me. We’re going to be having phone sex pretty soon, I said. We laughed and it went on from there like it did when we sat with our feet up on the cluttered dining room table avoiding some paper or another. Something about to-do lists and desks and trying to keep from laughing and picturing the organic snack-crackers I was eating and it felt like you were with me. Or Like when we talked about the Bomb Squad picking up your computer from Lansing or shooting texts back and forth about a sports team you didn’t know you had.
We waited a week before any of us spoke. Everyone silently agreed to let the others get re-adjusted, sensitive to all of our needs to be free. Our needs to make presents worth having. To not cling to the outgrown shells that each of us was impatiently waiting to leave by life’s unresting sea. And, each of us was worried about where we were going to be when we did leave – fearing loneliness, failure, stagnation, or whatever it is that terrifies us the most.
But to our surprise, hers and mine, the claustrophobia is strangely, deliciously absent. The grass outside is green.
And there are plans. For this weekend. For concerts and obscenely spicy Thai food. For camping, Manitou Island, Cedar Point, and who-knows where else Up North. For Pear Cider at Ashley’s and Strongbow and open floorspace on Main Street. For roller coasters, baseball games, and beaches. For one last trip to see you (here, there, or somewhere inbetween) before you go off on your great adventure.
This is going to be a good summer, I said. I’m excited. Smiling, and meaning it. Me too, she said. Me too.
“A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.” – St. Francis of Assisi
ps. I’m drinking the Raspberry Ale from Darkhorse right now. It’s alright, but I’m looking forward to making snakebites even more…