i stood there in the steep driveway; counting the seconds by the blinking of the big arrow pointing toward the door rather than the clock hanging on the wall. just standing there while the eighth wonder of the world played out in front of me -- car after car after car after car speeding by -- in Gilboa. GILBOA, where the only traffic jams are three car line ups behind temporary road work stop lights. this amazing thing made me think for some reason: where are my friends right now? most likely not waiting for a historical event to end.
my family had already crossed the street and piled into the tiny car. that meant i had to sit wherever there wasn't a huge five year old boy or a twelve year old girl who is almost taller than me.
i stood there for maybe two minutes, and during that time my thoughts washed over me like the water pouring over the dam across the street. i always get like this when i come to Clark's with my family. those people sitting by the bar by themselves never offered me any of their loneliness, which they seem to share so willingly with anyone who drinks beer and doesn't talk to them, and this time was no different. in this place, i am always alone in the worst of ways -- surrounded by people and trapped inside myself as i'm excluded from the "adult" conversation and certainly not taking part in the "kiddy" one.
i think about that person i miss so much. i think about my friend, then my other friend, then all of them in no particular order. i think about the friends i am severely attracted to, then try not to, since i'm not supposed to. as if to remind me of that Veronica makes fun of me for it, but doesn't understand that every day is torture -- especially when you say things and you know they don't mean it, and they will never mean it, that hurts most.
i feel really distant standing there, and cold, but a different kind of cold. i'm actually quite comfortable, really, but it's the distance that gets me. the distance between everything and me is cold, and that's what makes me see the words i wasted in the mirror on my own breath on a hot summer's day.
the last car passes, finally, and i start towards the car, almost sadly. i was sort of getting used to the cold.
but now, shoved between a car door and a huge five year old boy, it feels wrong to be so close to my family.
i can never get close enough to the right peple.