Dear Maria,
Thought I might dash off a quick note as I know I promised
to write more often. After nearly two hours outside this morning, Max is sacked
out in the foyer. The cooler temperature had him just standing out back for
stretches, nose lifted, taking in the fresh air. The kind of morning that is
very nearly life-altering, but I won’t say fall-like, not yet.
A recent dust-up at a local high school over a student
writing about getting a gun and killing the neighbors’ dinosaurs led a former
student of mine to recount writing a gruesome little tale in my class one day.
Apparently, rather than call for an administrative strike, I read it out loud
on its merits as a narrative. I say apparently very pointedly because I don’t
remember the moment at all. The student, yes, but not the assignment, not the
particular work, not the moment in the classroom.
Perhaps I would have handled the moment differently ten
years later or two years ago. I don’t know. Even if I could remember the event,
I might not be able to recapture the tone of that class period—how was I
feeling, what kind of mood the class was in, did I have some agenda in mind other
than plot construction.
A moment in a life that is a stream of moments—well, so
many, so very, very many that are not life-altering. But, a few may be—maybe only
one.
The other evening I was being tailgated for about half a
mile on the way home from Barnes & Noble. The front half of the sedan’s
hood behind me was hidden from my view, but I could clearly see the driver in
my rearview mirror applying eye makeup as she looked in her rearview mirror,
using her left forearm to steer her car. We were moving along at 45 in a tight
pack of vehicles on a divided stretch of a four-lane highway.
I tapped my brakes a few times, but she held her pace and
distance. I could only watch ahead for even the slightest need to brake. Had I
slammed on the brakes, she would not have been able to stop in time without
crashing into me. Later, I wondered whether she was running late because her
boss held her at work a bit longer than scheduled. Just a few minutes beyond
what she expected. Maybe a child dumped a plate of spaghetti on the floor ten
minutes before the babysitter arrived. Or did she build in applying makeup in
the car to her travel time to be on time.
At any moment….
Right on cue, Max is nosing my hip and arm. Outside again to
enjoy the lovely day. Good call, Max.
Hope all is well in your direction.
Yours, srk
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