Joy in the Midst
“You only live once.” Strange how a phrase used to fight death has no place in death’s presence. It has no place because living once is a tragedy.
“You only live once.” Strange how a phrase used to fight death has no place in death’s presence. It has no place because living once is a tragedy.
Finally the right paper lands in my hands, with the lowest grade in the class circled in red at the top. I quickly and quietly tuck the first page behind the rest.
A girl, age four, is in bed with the quilt scrunched up to her chin. Her blond curls quiver. She is petrified. There is a monster in the closet.
My mom is a beast. My mom has kicked cancer in the teeth and runs triathlons. Not quite simultaneously, but close.
“The violence portrayed in the film is brutal and graphic. It is by no means glorified and its futility resonates as a major theme throughout the story.”
The good stuff was taken. No waterskiing, no archery, no boating. The woman confirmed my fear: “We’ll put you drama and arts and crafts!”
You are the word shakers, the meaning-makers. The insiders into unspoiled beauty. The creators of escape. And you must not leave the rest of us behind.
So far, our best idea for getting rid of the pigeons involves gluing thumbtacks to the window ledge. We worry that we do not have enough tacks.
From the OED’s inbred, perverted cousin, Urban Dictionary: Although the idea of an Urban Redneck would at first seem an oxymoron, they do exist, and are actually quite common. There are three kinds of Urban Rednecks.
The thing is, though, this mode of taking in the world is really tiring. It’s healthy, and it’s stretching, and it brings perspective, but it’s tiring.