We end with our hands. I’m feeling a bit wounded today. Making X’s with strangers on the street. I don’t look at them. I don’t want to see them. Some teenager flipped me off for driving too close to him and trying to pass as he was turning right. This was the other night and Pat was in the car and rolled down the window and stuck his arm out and waved his middle finger around like a sword. My hero. Actually the whole thing made me laugh. The kid was going 15 mph. I’m not exactly sure what he was so pissed about.
But I fell in love again this weekend. With dark beer and yodeling. With friends and meat on a stick (gross – I know); drunk and waving the sausage around men’s faces and laughing as they swatted it away like a fly. Closing the weekend draped over Pat and watching football in the dark until midnight.
But something in me is quiet and tired. So I’ll try to rest and be still.
Leave a Reply