A whispered "no"

“No”. So much meaning to be borne by a two-lettered word. Search her face for signs of reluctance or resolve. Or worse, an infinite chasm of indifference. No expression; just the word.

A whispered “no” crackles and hisses like cold rain on thirsty pavement. Childhood rain, before you worried about catching a cold. When rain wouldn’t ruin your plans for the evening. It was just rain. Free entertainment welcomed on a hot summer day.

It hums in your head. Like the fluorescent light in the office you’ve been sitting in while hopes and regrets pass you by. Mementos of yesterday’s lunch and tomorrow’s headache strewn across your desk. Faded photographs reminding you of loved ones you spend too much time away from. A desert of paper, wood grained plastic and never-quite-comfortable furniture.

“Oh… what was the question?”

This makes me happy...

One small step for boy...

One giant leap for boyhood.

My little boy started Kidergarten this morning. And it occurred to me... I never got over my first girlfriend, my kindergarten teacher. I was sure I was going to marry her. After all, she loved me the most of all the other students. And next to my mom, who I couldn't marry even in Georgia, she was the girl for me.

Sigh.