I just recently returned from visiting the old stomping grounds, and although they sure have changed in the last four years, everything was the same as I remember. For a few minutes, it seemed like I was home again. Of course, I had no desire to hop onto the old R-train back to Bay Ridge.
And just for the sake of old times, when I HAD time and energy to write, I composed something short, below. I hope I haven't lost my grammar skills, or my ability to drivel on.
1/18/06 ... Holy crap! Has it been over 6 months since I last updated this page? I wish I could say that I was too busy partying to log on and write something, but the truth is, I've been living the life of a suburbanite. Lately, priority #1 is napping.
Oh please don't get me wrong. I'm not being lazy. It's the kiddies -- they're making me crazy and I've got the bags (under my eyes) to prove it. Somehow, lack of sleep drains any ounce of creativity out of a person. Also, the brain drain is incredible. The other day, I tried doing a simple kid's crossword and I couldn't complete more than three-quarters of it ... and no word was over 7 letters long.
I'm a totally different person lately, and although this new role I'm playing is great and noble, I would sure like the old me to shine through again. I'll keep you all updated on my efforts to regain the ol' Loud-Mouth Evvy. If she ever resurfaces, that is.
5/11/05 ... I don't take "constructive" criticism well, nor do I have the type of personality that can stomach rejection with the least bit of humility. You can imagine how poorly I internalized my feelings when I was told that my contract at the office was completed and that there was no offer of a renewal - no matter how temporary - on the table. Everyone keeps asking me what happened ... was I discriminated against somehow? Was there an opportunity to sue? Were there any warning signs of what was to come?
The fact is, I can't be mad at anyone for this, and that's what makes me the maddest. I guess the disadvantage of having empathy is that you can't ever really get mad at anyone. After all, it's all relative, right? I was assured that I did a fantastic job and I could expect a great referral from my bosses. Knowing that really doesn't make me any less nervous about being unemployed for the next few months before the "big job" that starts soon after my second labour (no caps on "labour") day.
2/1/05... Are the fumes from hot tar that's smeared on the roofs (rooves? haha) of buildings carcinogenic? I ducked out early from work yesterday, citing poor work environment and a subsequent bad headache, and I'm wondering if I can make the same claim this afternoon, since the smell of tar has re-entered this under-ventilated, spirit-sucking office space.
I frolicked in the weak sunlight after I made my escape yesterday and I would have danced all the way to the subway station if I didn't fear slipping and falling and then having a big tar truck accidently unload its ooey, gooey hot mess on me. I tend to get morbidly creative when I'm hopped up on unnatural fumes.
1/17/05... So I've rejoined the ranks of the worker bee, and absolutely nothing has changed about my work ethic since my return. Don't tell my bosses, but the 9 to 5 is a great time to update my personal webpage and write silly stories about nothing. I guess this means that I'm not being challenged, or I'm doing nothing to challenge myself, at work. The problem is I have zero ambition. My priorities in life have changed completely and I'm starting to wonder if that dreamy coffee shop I've been watching on the mental back burner shouldn't be brought up to the front for a stir.
9/11/04... It's been three years since the unthinkable happened, and to this day I can still be reduced to hysterics when I see an A&E documentary on that fateful day. Sometimes I'm so incredibly happy to have left my beloved city, only because my current life is so insanely utopic, but I can't help feeling like I've betrayed the Big Apple in some way by moving out. I would never trade what I have now to alleviate my illogical guilt, and there is certainly nothing I could have done to bring the city back to its original glory. That chapter has been closed, but I promise to visit soon. I will appreciate every minute spent back "home."
5/2/04... Some nosey woman asked me what I had done totally for myself lately. I told her that I'd taken up jogging, but she said it didn't count -- that I had to complete a totally selfish act, otherwise I would fall into a downward spiral of selfLESS despair. My life was not meant to be entirely for the sake of my children, she said, wagging a perfectly manicure finger. I'll have her know that yesterday I took an hour-long shower. What does she think of that? True, my fingers are shriveled and pruney, but I wanted to be clean FOR ME. So there. Nyah.
2/11/04... I've got a new man in my life and he's taking up all my time and energy. He's short, has thinning hair and isn't afraid to cry in front of me ... definitely not what I ever imagined to be my type, but he's certainly wormed his way into my heart. Lucky for me his mind is still a blank slate, primed for me to mould and shape in the years to come. Look out, world. Here comes Dylan.
7/24/03 ... So far as a pseudo-Canadian, I've landed my second job - the first one held my interest for two months and I spent the remaining eight searching for a new one. I've met a bunch of odd office folk and learned that nonprofit managers run the gamut between psychotic/neurotic and hands-off/mild-mannered. If anything, I've learned how to stay out of people's paths.
Now, a new development is in the works, and it looks as if I'll be out of commission for a year, starting in January. I'm looking forward to the third new "job," and I hope I don't want to quit the moment I've started on that endeavor.
For now, it's great finding new places to have lunch, even though the prices here are significantly higher than the last neighborhood's. It's fast food Chinese, three times a week, and I like it.
2/3/03 ... Happy Chinese New Year! To tell the truth, I'm not feeling very Chinese lately. I didn't even plan ahead for this year's New Year's celebrations, and I already broke one of my grandmother's rules about not washing your hair on the day before New Years.
Despite being near a large Chinese population, and having a friend base that is 95% Chinese, I find myself sitting around watching television on this festive day. Didn't think once about Chinese baked goods or lion dances on the street.
Does this make me a bad Chinawoman? This I will make reparations by forcing myself to head to the store to buy a wooden Buddha statue for the fireplace mantle.
11/27/02 ... Happy (American) Thanksgiving! Of course, this will be my second Turkey Day this year. Luckily the family doesn't plan to stuff itself until the weekend, which is fantastic for me, considering I will be able to fit into my dress for the high school reunion.
What an awful date to set a reunion! Everyone zoned out on triptophane and with expanded waistlines to boot. I've been trying to come up with a mental list of accomplishments to tout in front of my ex-classmates, and I've even taken a trip to pick up cosmetics. Seriously, why should I care how I appear to these people ten years later? Chances are, I won't even be recognized. At what price, immortality!?
9/23/02 ... The first great thing about living in Toronto is that a person can live in a real house, complete with a garage and a backyard (even a small one is fine). I've been waiting for nearly five months for this opportunity, and no matter how often these plans are delayed, I'm still anticipating the day I walk through the door of my new home.
I'm ready to learn to be a neighbor again! I'll mow the lawn (after the builders bestow me with some), cook my dinners on a real stove, vacuum the carpet, and tend the garden. It's all very domestic, and although I pride myself on being the epitome of feministic power, I sure wouldn't mind a little housework ... so long as I have a house.
8/16/02 ... It feels so good being employed again. After all those frustrating years working in the public sector in New York City, I truly thought I'd welcome the period of unemployed relaxation and meditation. As it turns out, I can't keep myself entertained by frequent trips to the library and walks around the park. I needed to work again.
Funny how all that time away from an office setting lead to the deterioration of my language and typing skills. Funny how I know the daytime television schedule better than I do my own birthdate and social security number. Mind-numbing temporary vacations made off with some of my brain cells.
In any case, congratulate me. I've got access to a computer again, so I'll be able to relieve myself in the written word, online -- I managed to land a job that allows me some freedom of creativity and the opportunity to schmooze with rich folks. Can anyone say, "Champagne wishes and caviar dreams?"
6/21/02 ... Everything is just so. The weekend plans are set, the job search is going smoothly (although slowly), my summer tan is even, and the weather is holding up nicely. There shouldn't be anything to cause strife in this copacetic period of my Canadian life, yet I keep having ominous dreams that border on paranoia and freakishness. While Macbeth's witches predicted fame and fortune, yet, ultimately, downfall, what does it mean when my subconscious keeps throwing me images of morbid television reality shows and being pickpocketed by faceless thugs?
Perhaps I've been reading too many sci-fi novels during these weeks of unemployment. Someone give me a job!!!
3/4/02 ... I started packing my things for the big move last night and while I was stacking my old paperbacks, I found a roll of Lifesavers tucked behind some binders on the bookcase. It had been opened, but the silver wrap sealed in the rest of the candies.
It was dangerously close to dinnertime for me, and I hadn't yet started preparing my evening meal. I looked at that roll like some starved wildcat, but just as I was about to tear into the wrap with my teeth, I stopped myself and worried about the safety of such old candy. It had to have been hiding back there for at least two years. I searched everywhere for an expiration date, but found none. Defeated, I returned the candy to the bookcase and went to make dinner.
All night my thoughts drifted back to the Lifesavers. Could I eat them without fear of being poisoned by ancient candy? Were they in fact edible after all this time? The roll sits on the high shelf, taunting and mocking me still.
11/5/01 ... Yesterday afternoon, I won a million dollars and gave it all to charity in a single two-minute phone conversation. Awaken from a cozy sleep by an obnoxiously-grating male voice, my mind was hazy and heavy. He asked to speak to Ms. Smith, and finding that no such person resided at the number he'd called, he proceeded to tell me that he was from the New York City Police and Fireman's Charity. I responded automatically with a "No thanks" and put my finger over the "end" button on my phone. "But you just won a MILLION DOLLARS," the nasally voice whined. I blinked awake in a split-second and squinted. A charity was giving away money? I'd only been in the philanthropic world for six years ... was there a chance he was telling the truth? "No thanks," I said again, this time a little less confidently. "Uh," he stammered. "Can I give it to charity?" I asked him if he was kidding and was subsequently met by the equally annoying dial tone.
Did I miss my chance at fortune?
9/18/01 ... This morning, exactly a week after the incident at the World Trade Center, I ominously selected the same outfit I wore that fateful day. I realized my error before I walked out the apartment door and threw the jinxed clothes into a heap in the corner of my bedroom.
I haven't done anything extraordinary to aid the World Trade Center relief efforts, besides donating pocket change and blood. Of course, I'd like to do so much more, and this feeling of ineffectiveness overcomes me whenever I take the train over the Manhattan Bridge and view the newly distorted skyline.
9/7/01 ... I just sold some of my textbooks from last semester to some fellow school mates who haven't yet been burned by the homework from these classes. I sold the last of my books, a collosal wad of bound jabber, to a woman who sent her husband to pick up the book (good idea, make the man do the heavy lifting). In an interesting coincidence, she is in my Monday class with me. "How will I recognize your wife in class?" I asked her Russian husband. "She's blond, petite ... maybe your height," he began. "And she's very beautiful." He smiled and returned to work.
How sweet, I thought. Perhaps they were still newlyweds. Normally, those sort of compliments would be spoken in the company of the referred-to beautiful woman for brownie points. I was warmed to know that he would say such a thing totally unprompted and unacknowledged by his wife. I would like to think that one day, after years of being married, that my future husband would still choose to describe me in that way to strangers.
Of course, better yet, I only hope that I am privileged to return the favor.
8/22/01 ... Hmm. I'm starting to think that maybe this page needs another major facelift. Even I'm starting to get bored looking at it. Strange to think that I've had almost the entire summer to get myself into html gear and start revamping the place, but my mind has been entirely devoted to thoughts of the townhouses and detached homes up north. The rest of the time, I've been working on erradicating the remaining cartilage in my knee through my evening jogs. Oh, I'm falling apart!
7/31/01 ... I'm not sure how I can somehow obtain workman's compensation, but I seem to be allergic to my office. Every day I wake up clear-headed and sniffle-free. I walk through the dirty streets, brave the stinky subway and pass by a hundred or so people with various diseases. Then, the minute I settle down at my desk, the sneezing commences. I have a new tissue box each week. My co-workers all think I'm a trooper, and that instead of going home to nurse my "illness," I've decided to come into the office out of my love of the job. I certainly can't have them thinking that, and I certainly can't go around looking like Rudolph all the time, especially in August.
7/12/01 ... I'm free! Summer school's over and I have absolutely no idea how to occupy my free-time. I think I've attended just about every cultural event in the city for the past week, including a trip to an art gallery that featured a gigantic bean bag chair in a plastic bag covered room featuring techno-meditation music. (Hey, as least there wasn't an admission fee.)
Despite my easy-going schedule, I've got several daunting tasks in front of me. First and foremost, I've got to come up with an idea for a master's thesis. Several friends are shocked when I tell them I have nothing already in mind. "You should have formulated your thesis outline before you applied to the program!" one tells me. Thanks, sweetie, but it's too late for that, and unless you've got a good research topic for me, I'm not talking to you anymore.
6/19/01 ... Somehow my weekly rants and raves have extended into monthy updates. Is this because my creativity peaks every 25-32 days, or have I really drifted off into slackdom?
Since I've been here last, I've had the distinct displeasure of being flashed twice on the subway, cut by a sharp briefcase while walking near the entrance to the Staten Island Ferry and subject to unidentifiable foul stenches around the corner from my neighborhood Gristede's. Signs of summer ... I couldn't wait. Time to break out the micro-shorts and SPF 45. Happy sunning, all!
5/30/01 ...I'm currently taking a class on developing management skills, which consists entirely of taking surveys to determine what kind of manager I'd make. So far I've made some rather nasty revelations about myself. First off, I'm a "driver," meaning I like to take control of situations and keep things moving along. I don't see this as an entirely bad attribute, but this test is now a way for people in my own class to stereotype me! For every class project, the first question presented to the group is "Who's the driver?" To which I raise my hand high in the air. Let them eat cake.
I suppose this is ultimately better than being an "amiable," or someone who just likes to go along with the ride to avoid strife. These are the people who eventually go postal after having bottled in all their feelings for years and years. Somehow, they're always seen as the victims, the ones that need to be coddled. The other two groups I'm not particularly concerned with ... now that I know I'm a hot-headed and bossy know-it-all, we can all go on with our lives. (Sigh.)
4/30/01 ...School's out for the spring and here I sit, eagerly anticipating the start of the summer semester. Oh, but it is difficult to maintain my excitement. This term, I am happily alone in the house again, meaning I'll have all the time in the world to do my homework withou the distraction of Sonata's medical interview tapes and her insistance on listening to club music at 7 am. I know I'll miss her, but in the meantime, it's nice to walk about the apartment slobby and inappropriately dressed.
3/27/01 ...More musings from the underground. Just a quickie. Wanted
to share with you something I read on the subway on the way to work a few months
ago that still makes me close my eyes and smile.
from Sleep
"I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment only;
I would like to be that
unnoticed and that necessary."
- Margaret Atwood
3/9/01 ...A middle-age couple stood on the dreary subway train platform, amidst a horde of angry, impatient New Yorkers. The train came, and the crowd surged forward to the edge of the platform. We all shoved our way into the already stuffed car, although it was already apparent that only half of us would make it into the sardine-packed space. The middle-age couple and I were among those who would wait for the next train.
"Why don't people move towards the middle of the train so that more people can get in?" the woman growled. "Everyone is standing by the doors." She complained loudly for the next twelve minutes as we waited for our ride. Finally, it rolled down the track and we all breathed a sigh of relief when we saw that it was a little less full than the first. Smiling, I let the couple pass before me to board the train first. They stepped in ... and stopped almost immediately in front of the door, barring anyone behind them from entering.
I excused myself and gently pushed my way past them on the way towards the middle of the car. I heard the woman's irritated voice over the sound of the moving train. "What's your hurry?" she yelled out after me. "Didn't you see me standing here?" She the leaned up against the door. It opens suddenly, as if on cue, and the poor lady flopped out onto the wet platform. The doors closed, and before she realized what had happened, the train pulled away from the station. The man, separated from his wife, turned to the rest of us and threw up his hands. "I thought she'd never shut up," he sighed.
2/26/01 ...Right before my father would come home from work every night, my sister would be finishing her third chapter of whatever school subject interested her at the time and I would be watching some nature show on television. Sonata was always one to read ahead in class - the obvious brains in the Lin sister operation, whereas I was the lazy do-nothing.
Sometime around 11 pm, we would start to get a little distracted. We'd listen carefully for the sound of the garage door and for the vroom vroom of the car inching its way up the driveway. Then we would hear it for real. Away went Sonata's books. The television clicked off. Two guilty children would dart up the stairs noisily, both headed towards their respective bedrooms. Sonata's light would go off almost immediately and the sound of steady breathing could be heard from the darkened room. Ah, she was a great fake sleeper. In my room, the books would open up to some random page in a math or science textbook and I would slouch over them, as if in deep thought.
Was Dad ever fooled, of did he bellow out a "Go to sleep!" just for the hell of it?
2/7/01 ...I'm beginning to think that the premise behind the February 2nd holiday is a bunch of groundhogwash. Punxatawny Phil, he of the movie starring Bill Murray, predicted that we would see another six weeks of winter, much to the dismay of his townspeople. Staten Island Chuck, on the other hand, took the politian's approach and told us New Yorkers what we so desperately wanted to hear - spring would be here within a three weeks. Major discrepancy between our meteorological groundhogs. Who should we believe?
One blizzard and two warm sunny days later, I'm inclined to think that maybe they were both right, considering groundhogs and other woodland creatures perhaps don't follow exactly the rules of our calendar. Go Phil and Chuck.
1/30/01 ...Ho-Lee-Chow, I'm experiencing the greatest writer's block known to woman. I've affectionately dubbed my inspiration enemy "schoolwork." Ick. I can't remember a time when I've been so swamped with hated things to do, and at the same time so compelled to do them. I guess this is how the ill- prepared peasant-cum-knight felt as he readied himself to battle the fat, fire-breathing dragon. Like him, there is a goal at the end of this immense task. I just wish I could push "escape battle" to move onto the next level already.
You might have noticed that haven't completed my latest essay. (Slacker!) It doesn't mean I've scrapped it entirely. It's been hard to focus on anything other than school lately, so I didn't want to continue teasing everyone, although I can't say I didn't enjoy torturing you. Don't worry, I'm getting around to putting a few (yes, a few) newbies up. Something about those late nights senselessly watching "Blind Date" on TV that really sidetracks a girl seeking to overcome writer's block.<> 1/12/01 ...I housed a former classmate of mine who was in town selling himself to the local hospitals for residency. Somehow I'd forgotten about my high school days, and for good reason. I was one angry girl ... angry for no particular reason besides the obvious - hormones. Strange though, he seemed to remember every single fellow graduate, teacher and hall monitor that ever walked the halls when we were attending that god-forsaken institution. Every sentence began with, "Do you remember the time when ..." and my answer was always, "Nope."
Have I gone senile, or is can this be described as a classic case of subconscious blockage? Granted, I didn't enjoy high school, but was it so bad that I've forgotten everything? I'd like to believe it's because I'm forward-thinking and that my visitor likes to live in the past, during his so-called glory days.
This past week has left me with one disturbing memory: My high school tormentors nicknamed me "Spin," created when one of them attempted to call out to me while wasted. I broke into her locker one day after school and anonymously emptied its contraband onto the desk of the vice principal's locked office. Ah, sweeeeeet revenge!
1/4/01 ...Happy New Year! Here I am, back at work, after the most relaxing two-week vacation I've ever had. I swear, I did nothing but eat, sleep and sleep some more. I was so lazy I even missed the countdown to the new year by a little over a minute. I didn't mind though - the company I kept was pleasantly distracting and altogether more exciting than a glittery ball descending on some spike in Times Square.
You're looking finally at a woman with a plan. (Doesn't exactly rhyme, does it?) No, I haven't made any New Year's resolutions, but I do know what I'd like to have happen over the course of the next year. A co-worker of mine has tricked me into committing to go to the gym with her twice a week, and I've got a less taxing schoolwork load anticipated for the upcoming semester. Hopefully, I'll have a legitimate reason (other than, "Hey, what's on TV?") to take a breather once in a while.
Big plans, big plans. More to come.
Secondly, the semester is over. Finally. At least 200 pages worth of writing
assignments, two exams and one useless statistics projects later, I'm sleeping
at regular hours and catching up on all my missed television shows. Ah, who am I kidding? I always had time for television, even with the homework.
And lastly, the question of the year: did Evvy get invited to the office Christmas party? Why yes, yes she did. However, I'm not sure this is a good thing, but considering my winning streak as of late, that's how I plan to categorize it. The office has a new HR person and I'm now on the list to receive things like invitations and passes to office events. How lucky am I? I'll tell you after the party.
12/8/00 ...Ever go through an entire day of happy occurences and good
fortune? Me either, although I mistakenly believed yesterday that I some some
light had shone down upon me and that the angels kissed my forehead. (Or
something.) Work was slow, meaning I had a full 7 hours of goof-off, surf the
internet time. You know, "kwality" time. I finished writing a paper on taxes
(woohoo) for class, and I played in one butt-kicking rehearsal and squeaked by
without making a noticable mistake. Ah, such was the life! If only every day
could be so heavenly -- well, without the term paper writing, of course.
I was in the highest of spirits. I may have even been skipping on my way to the subway station, who knows. Ah, but to my fellow New Yorkers, you foresaw the moment where the fairy tale ended when I said the dreaded s-word ... "subway."
Repress that chill down your spine when I tell you that it took me two hours to
travel what normally would have taken a little under an hour. Never before
had I seen so many pissed off New Yorkers who weren't in the parking lot of Shea Stadium after the last game of the Subway Series. We were all tired and dying to get home to our families, beds, dinners, or porn stations around midnight, while I waited a mere one stop away from my own to wait for our transfer. In hindsight, I could have avoided the wait altogether by walking home. Lazy bum.
Tomorrow's my concert. Nothing will spoil that day, not even the subway ...
especially since I'll be driving into the City. But then again, my fellow New
Yorkers smirk at me, knowing that the perils and frustrations of driving into
Manhattan far outweigh those associated with the underground trains. Wish me luck.
11/28/00 ...I have a plant on my window sill that resembles a few blades
of sickly grass, instead of a bed of luscious marigolds and zinnias. That's
what the packet the seeds came in promised, anyway. Sure, I may be a tree
hugger, but I can't seem to make anything grow and thrive through TLC, a lot of
room-temperature water and those flimsy food plant sticks.
On the other hand, plants that I ignore, or try to dessimate, grow to monstrous
proportions. A prickly aloe stem found at a garage sale has now increased in
size twenty-fold and whose roots are protruding through the plastic pot takes up all the space on my kitchen counter. I trimmed the giant to an inch-high stub at least seven times in the last six months and it still manages to mimic the mythical hydra in its unparalleled powers of regeneration.
When I was in grade school, I lopped off the top of a sprouting carrot and
planted the stump in a styrofoam cup and dirt I dug out of the lawn. It was to
be the first time I could afford to give mom a gift on Mother's Day. I watered
it for a good week and it did not respond to my affections. Frustrated I tossed it into the back of a dank cabinet and forgot about it until Mom's Day. To my surprise, it had grown a few extra (yellow) leaves and a thin layer of goo covered the base. I impressed myself with my green thumb skills. Mom perhaps wasn't as pleased ... I'm not sure what happened to that so-called plant after that day.
I worry about the fate of any future dog I might foolishly wish to adopt. Don't pray for me, pray for Rover.
11/7/00 ...Election day is here again. This may be the absolute last
time I participate in one of these civic obligations. I can't believe that
eight years ago, I lamented over the fact that my eighteenth birthday came a
few days after the election and that therefore I was unable to exercise my
rights as an adult citizen of this fair country. Now that I'm old enough, I
just wish someone would just make the decision for me, so I wouldn't have to
wake up early this morning to twist the plugs for a few candidates for whom I
couldn't care less. What triggered this apathy towards American politics? I'm
guessing that the fact that I now pay income taxes (approximately 35% of my
pay) might be a factor. Either that or I watch way too much Saturday Night
Live political satires for my own good.
So yes, I trudged out into the cold this morning, picked a few candidates (the
lesser of two evils, in all cases) and even remembered to vote on the proposal
item located at the lower right corner of the voting board. Dealt with
infrastructure - which I'm glad to say is a word with with I am now familiar.
At least I learned one thing in graduate school. Yay me.
I wonder if I propose a write-in ballot. I'm sure Popeye would make a great
leader. He is what he is, after all, although I suspect that his gangly wife
is the real brains behind the operations. Wait, strike that. I'm placing my bet on the nickel borrower guy, Wimpy. You know, the little guy who will gladly pay you back next Tuesday so that he can buy himself a burger today? At least he takes advantage of the notion of time-value of money ... although he might do better in the polls with a stage name.
10/5/00 ..."Something's coming - I don't know what is it, but it is, gonna be grand! Something tells me there's a miracle due, gonna come true, comin' to meeeee!"
Oh yeah, you guessed it, I'm a little giddy. I am instantly transported to my 6th or 7th birthday. My mother bought an amazing cake from Saunder's, complete with vanilla icing which as a kid I could never get enough of, and had just
commissioned me to go out into the neighborhood and dig up some local kids to
come over and celebrate my birthday. I grabbed my sister and the two of us
knocked on every door within a four apartment radius. (We were little then and
figured that the faster we got back, the faster we could attack the cake.) I
managed to invite about 10 kids I had never met before to come over an hour
later. Sis and I promised them cake, ice cream and soda pop to entice them
to come. I had no idea whether or not we had all the extras - I was afraid no
one would show.
To my surprise, all those invited were seated around the dining room table within the hour. Each had brought a tiny gift with them, undoubtedly raked up at the last minute from a pile of toys they no longer played with. (I didn't mind. I had cake!) Mom had retreated to the kitchen with the heavenly baked good to set candles atop it. A few minutes later, she flipped off the lights and emerged. She had carefully seated me with my back to the kitchen, in order to make the expected surprise well ... more surprising. I watched with glee the way my fellow celebrators' eyes flickered in unision with the reflection of the candles in their shining pupils. I swore I could feel the heat emanating from the tiny flames behind me. I closed my eyes as the cake was placed before me - didn't want to end the perfect feeling of sheer anticipation.
I can't remember what I wished for when I blew out the candles, or whether or
not the wish ever came true, but I would give anything to continue to have
that feeling again.
Home