Sunday, September 30, 2012

Some things just need to be reported

Like how the crossing guard cradles his stop sign like a vintage guitar.

Like how knowing some things are good for you rarely make them more enjoyable.

Like how knowing some things are bad for you rarely takes away their pleasure.

Like how the kids in the park play with the puppy in a way that worries their parents and worries me too.

Like how the words written in chalk on the sidewalk always make me smile and feel a little more hopeful, even if a word is misspelled.

Like how flipping through vinyl records at a second hand store is sacred and soothing.

Like how over-medicating before a performance will keep you from having a panic attack but it will also keep you from feeling.

Like how the 40-year-old version on of me realizes the 20-year-old version of me could have been more grateful for the ease of youth.

Like how the 20-year-old version of me was sure the 40-year-old version of me would know how to just BE.

Like how your husband takes you on a Sunday hike to a place called Amir’s Garden where there are trails lined with jade and remnants of burnt trees and hawks hovering languidly overhead.

Like how you will always picture your brother, as he was the last time you saw him, standing in your LA apartment, sipping a beer, sunburned and vibrant.

Like how one day you eat a peach with the skin on and like it better that way.