The Thing Is

“The dumbest fuckin’ thing is I should’ve known this was coming months ago.” The open window and the natural cadence of the truck’s engine didn’t drown the futility of Olsen’s hindsight. Mark Olsen’s parents gifted him with a common first name and a compelling to the point of use last name. When we were in the larger group, the one including Other Mark, I often forgot that Olsen could answer as well. Olsen adjusted the passenger’s mirror. Maybe he was looking for the older months before these newer ones.

Outside the truck, Oklahoma rolled by unabated. Red water creeks gouged deeply into the sandstone leaving green farmland so much growing room that farmers could afford to leave the Blackjack Oaks and thirsty Cottonwoods lining the creekways. South of us, hovering over north Oklahoma City bright purple clouds drowning in their own water-weight splashed onto Britton road. Maybe coming as far north as Hefner, but drying up abruptly well before getting to 122nd. Bone dry Stillwater lay a windy hour ahead.

I realized the 70 mile an hour barbwire fence had hypnotized Olsen into reticence. Or he purposefully required me to drag this inevitable conversation out of him.

“The dumbest fucking thing?” I asked.

“The thing is that it never occurred to me she’d leave me. I always thought I was the one putting up with her shit—staying with her. Not the other way ’round.” He punched open the glove box and slammed it shut. “But the dumbest fuckin’ thing—please don’t tell anyone else this—the dumbest fuckin’ thing is that I knew the minute I farted in bed and she didn’t react that it was over.”

Word count: 276
Day 212

A Few Less Leaves

I’m reading again. When I was younger I read books voraciously—one after the next. I read late into the night frequently. Once, I read an entire novel in a single sitting. Once I uncovered an author I read everything they wrote then reread it all when I couldn’t find anything new.

Not now.

These days I’m surprised when I’m reading late at night or even remembering to pick up the book I put down last night, last week, or last month. I’ve had to restart books I’ve abandoned afraid I just couldn’t figure it out unless I started over. Worse and more surprising I’ve chosen to not read when I could have easily done so.

The events of a family’s life clog up a day like fallen leaves bunch together to dam an overland stream. The first leaf catching on an innocent obstruction in the flow. Subsequent leaves piling up blamelessly behind the first. Individually none takes up all that much time. Even several in a bunch can’t significantly waylay my plans to read. Incrementally they build till their ceaselessness and unpredictability overwhelm me. Watching television becomes easier to accomplish.

In any case, for now, I am reading again.

Word count: 209
Day 209

In the Distance I See Lights

I’m sitting in a chair next to my daughter’s hospital bed. It’s a scene from more than a few movies. My Mother took the day off to help with the other three. Birthday plans and Baptism plans have been postponed or pushed back. Friends and family have checked in via phone and email and such. Well wishers have wished her well.

But I’ve not been here all day and all night. I’ve not been talking to her so she could hear my voice nor begging God to wake her up. She isn’t cancerous or comatose. She isn’t even all that ill by my eye. No ounce of me is worrying the outcome of this event.

Maybe this is what it’s like to place your trust in God. Maybe this is what it’s like to know His Will Be Done and that you can only hope that His Will and your own run parallel for a span. I don’t think I have and I don’t think it is.

Rather, I’ve just never had something like this go wrong.

Word count: 187
Day 200