One of these daysMoments into the game last night, Lochlan skated too close to Ben and Ben gave him a shove that sent him to the ground, knocking his helmet off. He came charging out of the net, fast for such a big guy and the others threw themselves between Lochlan and certain death, since Ben never put down his stick.
you'll break me of many things
Some cold white day,
but you're crazy if you think
I would leave you this way
You should wake up before the wrath comes
(me and you) could take off before the wrath comes
soon
And one of these days
I pray it will be sometime soon
On a day like today
you'd be crazy not to want me
to teach you the way
But Ben had no intentions of hurting Loch. These are simply reminder knocks. Caleb got his later in the game and I'm still not one hundred percent comfortable with him taking Cole's spot, which was occasional player when enough others don't show, because Caleb is the furthest thing from a sporting man that I can envision unless it involves horses, or perhaps water polo or croquet.
Croquet. Yes, when we are all a hundred years old, the swings will come slower, the insults will be unintelligible for hearing loss and the sidelong glances will be ignored on account of dementia. Who is this person and why are they looking at me? I cannot wait for that suddenly. I will sit under a huge umbrella on an old quilt I haven't purchased yet and watch the waves since they will not change over the next fifty years as remarkably as I will.
Mark this day, as it's the first day I have written about a future action, something Sam is always pushing me for, something I am usually too skittish/superstitious to manage since if I jinx it now, then what, Samuel?
He has no answers. He will, however, have a big smile.
Ben brought me flowers again last night. Huge chrysanthemums, a lily or two, what seems to be eucalyptus and something else, a beautiful creamy-pink arrangement that made me smile, for there's nothing quite as striking as a man walking toward me with a giant bouquet of flowers. I needed both arms to hold them as we came into the house, and I feared the biggest glass vase might not be big enough. He would have sacrificed the water pitcher but my plan was to divide the bouquet into smaller arrangements and have flowers in several different rooms. When I said this he simply said he would start bringing me flowers every night, and then the house will be filled.
Long after we left the flowers behind on the main floor, the dark came to claim his generosities, leaving behind his greed as I was held down, stretched out and stung. Turned raw, made whole, scratched smooth. Worn out, to be regenerated in sunlight for the next moonless night. I fell asleep marveling at how badly my limbs trembled, while Ben slept already, one arm tightly wrapped around my frame, weighing me down against the storm so I could not be ripped away from him by bad fortune. Consigned to a welcome oblivion for two.
Sleep came for me and I didn't have a chance to bring my dreams. It spit me out on the side of the road just before five this morning and as I picked myself up and dusted off my skin a light was shining, just around the next bend. Instead of heading toward it, I walked the other way, back into the dark. Toward the place where I have no narrative to cloud my perceptions, no inevitable death to scare my heartbeats into double-time and no flimsy camper-door lock to alter my existence forever.