(no subject)
I figured out the trick, today.
The trick to what, you say?
The trick to having an actual conversation on the phone with my super shy 9 year old sister, who I miss dearly.
Most of our conversations, sound something like this:
Me: "Hi Toby!"
Her: "... Hi Daniel."
*empty pause*
Her: "... Bye Daniel."
You see, the trick! The trick is to act fast, and insert some sort of question to which she must react, respond to, within that empty pause. It works, too; I had her giving suggestions as to where I might've hidden my heads of garlic. Sneaky bastards were under the bag of rice.
Today I sat under a tree next to the river, and wrote a letter on the back of a worn poster I cut down off of a telephone pole. The last offical day of summer, and it felt like it, too. Sun and clear skies. There were people riding various sorts of boats up and down the river, and wasps trying to get at my muffins.
A conversation on the phone today has struck me with the desire to take a trip to Montreal. She spoke of how she was born there. Suddenly, I want to look at the house I remember living in, and buy a bagel from the place around the corner. I want to go to the parks I remember playing in, see if that massive climbing tree is still there, and if it's still massive. Also, I'd really like to experience the city from the point of view of someone who is actually old enough and able to go exploring on their own. I was 8 when I moved from there, and haven't been back too many times.
Odd, the desires that come upon you. Mind you, the urge was curbed somewhat by the price of a bus ticket to that city, but still...
Too many things to do, not enough time or money. Oh well. I'm in no particular hurry.
(yes I am.)
The trick to what, you say?
The trick to having an actual conversation on the phone with my super shy 9 year old sister, who I miss dearly.
Most of our conversations, sound something like this:
Me: "Hi Toby!"
Her: "... Hi Daniel."
*empty pause*
Her: "... Bye Daniel."
You see, the trick! The trick is to act fast, and insert some sort of question to which she must react, respond to, within that empty pause. It works, too; I had her giving suggestions as to where I might've hidden my heads of garlic. Sneaky bastards were under the bag of rice.
Today I sat under a tree next to the river, and wrote a letter on the back of a worn poster I cut down off of a telephone pole. The last offical day of summer, and it felt like it, too. Sun and clear skies. There were people riding various sorts of boats up and down the river, and wasps trying to get at my muffins.
A conversation on the phone today has struck me with the desire to take a trip to Montreal. She spoke of how she was born there. Suddenly, I want to look at the house I remember living in, and buy a bagel from the place around the corner. I want to go to the parks I remember playing in, see if that massive climbing tree is still there, and if it's still massive. Also, I'd really like to experience the city from the point of view of someone who is actually old enough and able to go exploring on their own. I was 8 when I moved from there, and haven't been back too many times.
Odd, the desires that come upon you. Mind you, the urge was curbed somewhat by the price of a bus ticket to that city, but still...
Too many things to do, not enough time or money. Oh well. I'm in no particular hurry.
(yes I am.)