(no subject)
It had to be over 20 years ago.
My Grandparents were deeply involved in the local chapter of the Moose Lodge in St. Pete and we, the newest, youngest generation of the family, were quite possibly the most bountiful beneficiaries.
Easter and Christmas were well known and excitedly anticipated days, where parents got to goof off and we kids got to enjoy the fun of a party without the burden of blowing out candles.
On odd occasions though, we'd drop in on our Grandparents, for reasons still-and quite possibly forever- unknown.
Past the front doors was a bar, complete with a jukebox and billiards table.
An openable wall separated a larger room which doubled as a cafeteria (when the tables were out) and a parquet dance floor (when the tables werent).
Most of our time in the bar was spent simply passing through, as we hadnt yet even attained a double-digit age at the time.
HOWEVER, that did not mean it was invisible, or impervious to our youthful shenanigans.
I cant remember if it was me or a cousin of mine, but as we left one day and passed through the bar area, quarters had been dropped, a billiards game had begun, and after the initial rack had been broken without a ball being sunk, someone in our party walked by the table, reached up (at 7, 8 years old, we still had to reach UP) grabbed the 8 ball, and slam-dunked it into a pocket.
The guy-girl duo who had just started the game were baffled as to what to do. The mix of shock, anger and confusion that washed over their faces while the 8 ball rolled into the bowels of the table was unmistakeable and readily apparent.
My Dad hustled us to the door, scolding us and threatening to "talk about it outside" as we walked hurriedly toward the door.
If we were ten years older, we'd have a had a fight on our hands; it was clear that the couple would have preferred we would have been, but as we were, theres only so much of a beating you can dole out to an 8 year old before you cross the line of socially acceptable and being branded a child abuser.
Plus, Im sure the limited family we had on hand at the moment still wouldve fucked them up.
So we walked. And they stayed. The game; all the balls on the table, except the 8 ball, the end game, the only one that really matters... gone.
xxx
I came home from work this morning. Detailed out for the second half of an up-and-down to 37 truck.
Nothing really wild to speak of- accidentally breaking a window, that was goofy- but still a busy night nonetheless.
The phone rings, and its Laura. As we talk, shes surprised to hear Im working tonight. She'd made plans to meet a friend, and had intended to work me into it.
In most lines of work this could be a problem, but a few phone calls later, the stars were suddenly aligning and here I was with the night off.
As the sun set, I hit the road. She was apprehensive about seeing me. "Guilty" was the word she used, as her husband had made it abundantly clear in the past that he did not approve of her being in my presence in any capacity, going so far as to bar her from traveling to Florida without him.
As an aside, with the amount of time Ive spent in Florida over the past few years, he may have just as well told her he was not comfortable with her traveling to Alaska.
Rather than wait for her to arrive at "better" judgement, I took the decision out of her hands. I said Id heard this town was nice this time of year, and since I had the night off anyway, I was going to go and see for myself. If by chance, we bumped into each other, great, and if not, that was okay too.
"Youre under no obligation to see me. Expectations are a burden," I told her, "and I have no interest in putting a burden of any size on your shoulders."
It reads like bullshit. But its not. 55 miles to see someone you want to see? It wouldnt even register on your hearts odometer. If it had one...
As it worked out, we did in fact, bump into each other. The night went fast though. Late starts all around. Early morning responsibilities. It felt like no time went by, before we were saying goodbye at the cars.
She said she'd intended to have much deeper conversations. She said she was concerned that Id end up hating her; that she felt she was being unfair to me and to her husband.
I told her to make her priority her kids and herself. That she owed me nothing.
She said she couldnt, and that she didnt want, to leave him. That they have their issues, but he's a good person.
I discarded the generalities, saying its what you want. That all of the prioritizing, and intentions and concerns, it all comes down to what you Want. And I said I just wanted to see her happy.
She said she was uncomfortable knowing that she was done with having kids; that she felt she'd be cheating me, should we become involved again.
I let her know she's a walking anomaly; that what I always thought I wanted, and ideas and rules Id set for what I look for just didnt apply to her.
She saw me looking at the car seats in the back of her Jetta, and wondered aloud about how when we're little, we see adults and think theyve got life figured out, that adults know what they want. Then we get here and see thats not the case.
I suggested it was preferable to knowing exactly what we want, and having it not be available.
Then I told her about the billiards incident at the Moose; the analogy of having a seemingly fresh game on the table, but finding purpose in playing without the last ball, the end-goal, on the table.
We kissed. We parted ways. Again.
As familiar as its become, it remains perfectly bittersweet and never gets easier.
My Grandparents were deeply involved in the local chapter of the Moose Lodge in St. Pete and we, the newest, youngest generation of the family, were quite possibly the most bountiful beneficiaries.
Easter and Christmas were well known and excitedly anticipated days, where parents got to goof off and we kids got to enjoy the fun of a party without the burden of blowing out candles.
On odd occasions though, we'd drop in on our Grandparents, for reasons still-and quite possibly forever- unknown.
Past the front doors was a bar, complete with a jukebox and billiards table.
An openable wall separated a larger room which doubled as a cafeteria (when the tables were out) and a parquet dance floor (when the tables werent).
Most of our time in the bar was spent simply passing through, as we hadnt yet even attained a double-digit age at the time.
HOWEVER, that did not mean it was invisible, or impervious to our youthful shenanigans.
I cant remember if it was me or a cousin of mine, but as we left one day and passed through the bar area, quarters had been dropped, a billiards game had begun, and after the initial rack had been broken without a ball being sunk, someone in our party walked by the table, reached up (at 7, 8 years old, we still had to reach UP) grabbed the 8 ball, and slam-dunked it into a pocket.
The guy-girl duo who had just started the game were baffled as to what to do. The mix of shock, anger and confusion that washed over their faces while the 8 ball rolled into the bowels of the table was unmistakeable and readily apparent.
My Dad hustled us to the door, scolding us and threatening to "talk about it outside" as we walked hurriedly toward the door.
If we were ten years older, we'd have a had a fight on our hands; it was clear that the couple would have preferred we would have been, but as we were, theres only so much of a beating you can dole out to an 8 year old before you cross the line of socially acceptable and being branded a child abuser.
Plus, Im sure the limited family we had on hand at the moment still wouldve fucked them up.
So we walked. And they stayed. The game; all the balls on the table, except the 8 ball, the end game, the only one that really matters... gone.
xxx
I came home from work this morning. Detailed out for the second half of an up-and-down to 37 truck.
Nothing really wild to speak of- accidentally breaking a window, that was goofy- but still a busy night nonetheless.
The phone rings, and its Laura. As we talk, shes surprised to hear Im working tonight. She'd made plans to meet a friend, and had intended to work me into it.
In most lines of work this could be a problem, but a few phone calls later, the stars were suddenly aligning and here I was with the night off.
As the sun set, I hit the road. She was apprehensive about seeing me. "Guilty" was the word she used, as her husband had made it abundantly clear in the past that he did not approve of her being in my presence in any capacity, going so far as to bar her from traveling to Florida without him.
As an aside, with the amount of time Ive spent in Florida over the past few years, he may have just as well told her he was not comfortable with her traveling to Alaska.
Rather than wait for her to arrive at "better" judgement, I took the decision out of her hands. I said Id heard this town was nice this time of year, and since I had the night off anyway, I was going to go and see for myself. If by chance, we bumped into each other, great, and if not, that was okay too.
"Youre under no obligation to see me. Expectations are a burden," I told her, "and I have no interest in putting a burden of any size on your shoulders."
It reads like bullshit. But its not. 55 miles to see someone you want to see? It wouldnt even register on your hearts odometer. If it had one...
As it worked out, we did in fact, bump into each other. The night went fast though. Late starts all around. Early morning responsibilities. It felt like no time went by, before we were saying goodbye at the cars.
She said she'd intended to have much deeper conversations. She said she was concerned that Id end up hating her; that she felt she was being unfair to me and to her husband.
I told her to make her priority her kids and herself. That she owed me nothing.
She said she couldnt, and that she didnt want, to leave him. That they have their issues, but he's a good person.
I discarded the generalities, saying its what you want. That all of the prioritizing, and intentions and concerns, it all comes down to what you Want. And I said I just wanted to see her happy.
She said she was uncomfortable knowing that she was done with having kids; that she felt she'd be cheating me, should we become involved again.
I let her know she's a walking anomaly; that what I always thought I wanted, and ideas and rules Id set for what I look for just didnt apply to her.
She saw me looking at the car seats in the back of her Jetta, and wondered aloud about how when we're little, we see adults and think theyve got life figured out, that adults know what they want. Then we get here and see thats not the case.
I suggested it was preferable to knowing exactly what we want, and having it not be available.
Then I told her about the billiards incident at the Moose; the analogy of having a seemingly fresh game on the table, but finding purpose in playing without the last ball, the end-goal, on the table.
We kissed. We parted ways. Again.
As familiar as its become, it remains perfectly bittersweet and never gets easier.