SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Friday, Feb. 06, 2004 @ 7:24 pm
Waiting for Him



The six o'clock sun beams out from under the dark cloud bank. It's just a few moments of light before the night, and the air has a freezing chill.

I've pulled on the hood of my sweater, and I sit in the Village warming my hands on steaming coffee. Books are spread in front of me.

"Heya Shan," Dave says, and he sits down in the empty chair beside me. I look briefly around the corner and the usual crew is there, in all their toques and gleeming metal.

We talk quietly. For once a real conversation without alcohol, and he tells me that school is going well, etc etc. I tell him things have been not so good lately, and he focusses in on me, trying to figure it out. It's nothing you can help with, I tell him, it's just me learning from my mistakes.

My sentence is interrupted by a girl who comes over to tell him they're leaving. The dark-eyed girl stands close to him, her raven hair curls to her waist.

"We're going to Tyler's to get high. Wanna come?"

I look back and forth from him to my books and shake my head.

They walk away in the gorgeous slanted sunlight. I wonder when our interactions will feel natural and less intense. It always feels like it's building to something, but I know it's not, because that something was over so long ago. Still, there's a bond between us that will always exist.

After he left I began to pack up my books. I realized then that I had been sitting there waiting for him. Why? Because all I crave right now is to be near someone who knows and loves me.


Roots | Shoots