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Stability
Daylight savings always feel strange to me, doubly so as Halloween's vanguard. Two days ago, I saw a hawk with a six foot wingspan. Yesterday, the skipping star. Today, a tree with a dozen knots, and squirrel heads sticking from every one. Ten thousand grackle screamed from the canopy.
I looked beside me, and there was Edward, tall as ever and bearded now. Very white teeth in a very dark face, voice low as a kettledrum. Four years since we'd spoken, but we instantly fell to the old rapport.
I remember the old days of health class, making plaques that declared me the Empress of the Universe, a parody of hall passes. Vying for practice rooms, inventing fake students and signing things "Ventington." Climbing the roof of the school to take yearbook pictures.
I asked if he still played -- this is, after all, UNT, and he was an Arts Magnet violin.
Music education, he said.
You're going to teach then? I asked him. He shrugged.
It's financially secure, but I'm not sure it's what I want.
Yeah, I said, I know what you mean. I'm an economist, but, well, you know I just want to be a gypsy bohemian, wandering the world and crashing on people's sofas.
He laughed at this, smiling. Relieved. "You really haven't changed since high school, have you?"
Not substantively.
Then I went through a door I'd never taken and got lost in the language building.
I looked beside me, and there was Edward, tall as ever and bearded now. Very white teeth in a very dark face, voice low as a kettledrum. Four years since we'd spoken, but we instantly fell to the old rapport.
I remember the old days of health class, making plaques that declared me the Empress of the Universe, a parody of hall passes. Vying for practice rooms, inventing fake students and signing things "Ventington." Climbing the roof of the school to take yearbook pictures.
I asked if he still played -- this is, after all, UNT, and he was an Arts Magnet violin.
Music education, he said.
You're going to teach then? I asked him. He shrugged.
It's financially secure, but I'm not sure it's what I want.
Yeah, I said, I know what you mean. I'm an economist, but, well, you know I just want to be a gypsy bohemian, wandering the world and crashing on people's sofas.
He laughed at this, smiling. Relieved. "You really haven't changed since high school, have you?"
Not substantively.
Then I went through a door I'd never taken and got lost in the language building.