Last night I caught up with Thomas, who had finally moved from the Beast — that's the East Bay, get it? — to the city proper. We met at Blue Bottle, where the baristas didn't even try to conceal their disdain at our non-caffeinated orders. (Some of us have delicate stomachs and never properly developed a taste for coffee, you know.)
Thomas speaks French better than anybody I know, and he has a do-gooder job that saves the planet. When he told me about an opportunity to do a Captain Planet style job in France, I asked him why the hell he hadn't applied yet. If there's anything I enjoy, it's encouraging people to go for what they might be afraid to want. I really enjoy being that kind of cheerleader. One of these days I might figure out how to root for Team Self.
It had been a year, almost to the day, since Thomas and I had seen each other. It felt like no time had passed. We joked and bitched (mostly me) and sighed like furnaces. I mother-henned Thomas about being careful on his bicycle, because you never know when you might fall off and break your foot. He asked me about losing my father, and I walked through the rain with lightness and clarity after we parted. Some people drain, and others lift. It was good to be lifted. I hope to do that for people, too, but lately I feel like a tiny little hurricane. Fitting, then, that it's almost time to return to the place where I experienced my first flood.
(Sorry this is boring and crappy but I'm trying to write every day. See above re: self-cheerleading.)
Thomas speaks French better than anybody I know, and he has a do-gooder job that saves the planet. When he told me about an opportunity to do a Captain Planet style job in France, I asked him why the hell he hadn't applied yet. If there's anything I enjoy, it's encouraging people to go for what they might be afraid to want. I really enjoy being that kind of cheerleader. One of these days I might figure out how to root for Team Self.
It had been a year, almost to the day, since Thomas and I had seen each other. It felt like no time had passed. We joked and bitched (mostly me) and sighed like furnaces. I mother-henned Thomas about being careful on his bicycle, because you never know when you might fall off and break your foot. He asked me about losing my father, and I walked through the rain with lightness and clarity after we parted. Some people drain, and others lift. It was good to be lifted. I hope to do that for people, too, but lately I feel like a tiny little hurricane. Fitting, then, that it's almost time to return to the place where I experienced my first flood.
(Sorry this is boring and crappy but I'm trying to write every day. See above re: self-cheerleading.)
Labels: the france
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