momentous occasion
Today was the last day of Spring 2005. After I got out class I wanted to lift my arms into the air, victory fists, and a momentous smile to mark the occasion by taking the place of my mouth biting habitus. Instead I felt like the sun that was shinning on my inappropriate scarf was showing how empty things were. But up the street a small boy was getting his hair cut by the immigrant hair stylist with Barbie doll makeup. He was nervous in his chair. She smiled, with clippers poised, at me as I walked by, as I always walk by, looking into her window. And the momentous occasion of that mundane glint of hair cutting scissors made the sun feel warm, and I took off my scarf.