anything to catch your eye
With my mom behind the wheel, I screamed the words to Free Falling and danced in my seat. We stopped for lunch at a small town diner. We drove for hours through the continuously changing scenery. There were patches of strip malls and discount stores, but they eventually faded into stretches of land, and smaller, more charming towns. The sun was golden and lit up farm houses, lettuce crops, backyards and the faces of kids playing in the streets.
We visited my brother in his small apartment, with his beautiful girlfriend who's cut her hair like Betty Boop, and his animated kitten who crawled around the room like crazy.
At my grandparents my Irish grandmother had a turkey in the oven. "I wasn't sure what you eat," she said, "but I know you love turkey." My enthusiasm at thanksgiving must have stuck with her. I left the next day armed with her Irish bread, raisin bread and banana bread. She feeds me well. My restless body even slept well in their large house, armed wall to wall with antiques, paintings, photographs and furniture.
I left my mother there and took the train back to Toronto in time for the elections for the school paper. Upstairs in the Imperial Pub I stood up with three young men, passed around a microphone, and fought for the spot of photo editor. Jack Daniels loosened my tongue, but my nerves were running through my body like the first time I thought I knew what love was.
I lost by three votes to a man with a beard and a history of writing for the paper. I'll still contribute what I can, but I won't be the man in charge I had planned on being. He'll be wearing the pants, and I'll still be strutting around in my skirts and boots, small digital camera in hand. What can I say? I guess his lens was bigger than mine.