I do.
Yesterday was destruction with no constructive resolution. So in the midst of Frou Frou. In the midst of my passionate rage. In the midst of a dwindling relationship, I created. I noticed that I had no spray adhesive, which I really needed for the piece I was doing, so I charged out of the house and drove to Wet Paint. Man, I was pumped. I had so much creative clarity (which rarely happens)I flew in that store with warp speed.
As I was looking at some charcoal crayon deals I saw slender ribs snake behind me. "Jamie King!" Me. My name. My name? I looked up as the ribs finished their coil infront of me. Unbelievable. I had not seen him since high school. He looked beautiful. Happy. Should I tell him that out of some tiny pocket in my long term memory I was thinking about him just yesterday? Yesterday when I had no inclination that I was to run into him today. No. I should not do that. That would frighten him.
He lives at home now. Last year was crazy, he said. Everyone became pot heads who couldn't remember their majors, or who just didn't attend class. He was going to class. He was living at home, letting his mom do his laundry, eating real meals, and majoring in architectural design. He wants to create, to design, to build, to be successful. He is growing up.
His hazel eyes challenged the light of the dusk through the store window. Oh. There they are. I remember those eyes. Many years previous to this meeting I was enchanted by those eyes, and the rest of this boy. Previous to this meeting there was a completely separate, completely demolished world of this boy on my pedestal. From 5th grade, when he moved to Phoenix, until 8th grade, I liked him. I know that that seems flimsy, me being so young during those grades, but you would have to know me to understand the way I understand my feelings, even back then. Then in high school I liked him again, which became more intense with the growing of age and hormones.
This boy, that I spent my childhood adoring, stood directly in front of me in Wet Paint and asked me about my life in Azusa. I didn't hate being in Phoenix. If all my summer, boredom, homesick, depression, angst was here in Phoenix because God knew I would run into an old friend, then it was worth it. How terrible I have felt this whole summer vanished the moment he said my name. It was so good to see him. He sounds like, looks like, he is becoming a good man. In conversation I told him that I may not be returning to Phoenix after this summer. He told me that he would see me around. You know, I actually hope I do see him. I really hope I do. I do.
As I was looking at some charcoal crayon deals I saw slender ribs snake behind me. "Jamie King!" Me. My name. My name? I looked up as the ribs finished their coil infront of me. Unbelievable. I had not seen him since high school. He looked beautiful. Happy. Should I tell him that out of some tiny pocket in my long term memory I was thinking about him just yesterday? Yesterday when I had no inclination that I was to run into him today. No. I should not do that. That would frighten him.
He lives at home now. Last year was crazy, he said. Everyone became pot heads who couldn't remember their majors, or who just didn't attend class. He was going to class. He was living at home, letting his mom do his laundry, eating real meals, and majoring in architectural design. He wants to create, to design, to build, to be successful. He is growing up.
His hazel eyes challenged the light of the dusk through the store window. Oh. There they are. I remember those eyes. Many years previous to this meeting I was enchanted by those eyes, and the rest of this boy. Previous to this meeting there was a completely separate, completely demolished world of this boy on my pedestal. From 5th grade, when he moved to Phoenix, until 8th grade, I liked him. I know that that seems flimsy, me being so young during those grades, but you would have to know me to understand the way I understand my feelings, even back then. Then in high school I liked him again, which became more intense with the growing of age and hormones.
This boy, that I spent my childhood adoring, stood directly in front of me in Wet Paint and asked me about my life in Azusa. I didn't hate being in Phoenix. If all my summer, boredom, homesick, depression, angst was here in Phoenix because God knew I would run into an old friend, then it was worth it. How terrible I have felt this whole summer vanished the moment he said my name. It was so good to see him. He sounds like, looks like, he is becoming a good man. In conversation I told him that I may not be returning to Phoenix after this summer. He told me that he would see me around. You know, I actually hope I do see him. I really hope I do. I do.