Sunday, March 19, 2006

She sat down across from me at the airport and started crying, and with her curly blonde hair and delicate features she so reminded me of another crying blonde that I wanted to go sit at her feet and worship.
She had her headphones in, and I couldn't begin to think of how to approach this beautiful girl to ask what she was leaving behind that would make her cry so. I didn't want to watch--that would be rude--but since I couldn't actually stop watching I made do with making glances past her, sweeping my eyes from left to right as though I was looking around the gate area. While I watched (or didn't) a little boy walked up from behind me and handed her a wad of tissues. She nodded and thanked him, thickly, but didn't stop crying.

I decided to walk home from Jeff's birthday brunch (which was yummy! Happy birthday, Jeffrey!) because it was a lovely day and I'm just so glad to be home. On the way I called Dave, because he's been having a hard time of it lately, down in Berkeley, and the last few days have been no picnic for me either. I needed someone to remind me that whoever it is I turn into around my father isn't really me, that it's just a pretend girl to hide the things I don't want him to tear down. I learned a lot about being patient last year, even if I am still working on letting go.

(PS: Chas? Is this better?)

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