Wednesday, May 11, 2005
In the Waiting Room
I love the form teacups take when stacked. It reminds me of Alice in Wonderland and how I could never finish the entire movie as a child out of sheer boredom and predicicality. Walking through the streets of Beacon Hill I have noticed how small people request small things. Little boys want to watch the trucks that are constructing a new side walk. White haired girls dressed in Oilily ask for a scoop of ice cream or a piece of bread to feed the ducks in the public garden. The innocence and simplicity of children in the city is the most intriguing aspect of meandering through The Hill on a flip flop and polo shirt day.
I have recently been told by a large handful of beautiful people that I am the strongest person they have ever met. Nice Compliment, too much pressure. My father has enstilled in me the most amazing ability to be completely self-reliant. I can make a three course meal out of six ingredients, drive a stick, change a tire, catch a fish, grow tomatoes, build a fire, start a boat with a screw driver. I have also learned from my father how to constantly be aware of my surroundings. This has overlapped into city life with complete necessity.
It is may, and if I had made a different decision with my life, I would be meandering threw Beacon Hill sans Starbucks but with a stroller of my very own in tow. With a small person, requesting only small things with nothing more than a wimper.
But for now, I will grab my Venti-Non-Fat-Chai and be the observer I have learned to be from my father. I will notice the marigolds in someone's one square foot of earth at the bottom of their stoop, I will listen to small people request small things and dance with the people on the street, smiling, while i'm waiting for my appointment with change.
I have recently been told by a large handful of beautiful people that I am the strongest person they have ever met. Nice Compliment, too much pressure. My father has enstilled in me the most amazing ability to be completely self-reliant. I can make a three course meal out of six ingredients, drive a stick, change a tire, catch a fish, grow tomatoes, build a fire, start a boat with a screw driver. I have also learned from my father how to constantly be aware of my surroundings. This has overlapped into city life with complete necessity.
It is may, and if I had made a different decision with my life, I would be meandering threw Beacon Hill sans Starbucks but with a stroller of my very own in tow. With a small person, requesting only small things with nothing more than a wimper.
But for now, I will grab my Venti-Non-Fat-Chai and be the observer I have learned to be from my father. I will notice the marigolds in someone's one square foot of earth at the bottom of their stoop, I will listen to small people request small things and dance with the people on the street, smiling, while i'm waiting for my appointment with change.
// posted by .elle. @ 5:11 PM 
