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restoration?
so, I wandered into the student union, eager to share my pain with
anyone who cared...and ran into my best friend in a side hallway, with
whom I had a recent piercing clash (considering he is my chief source of
heartache lately, I was not exactly shaking with joy to see him)...
they were collected, together, three of my friends, eyes sad, holding
hands or touching shoulders and I realised there was nothing I could say
in the face of seperate and accute pains...
and Melissa, cornered in the phone booth, clutching Kell's arm, said
plaintively: "why don't you guys just all come in here?"
I visualised our four bodies in the tinier-than-closet cavity, and then
grappled over arms and legs to perch atop their laps...
"shut the door, shut the door!" they cried.
so, four english major bodies, jammed in a phone booth.
we were laughing so hard.
(that kind of laughter, so genuine at life's ironies and
sharpness, just pealing out in the ridiculous)
"we could fit twenty more people in here," mel declared in wonder,
from somewhere left of my elbow.
before any could ponder this longer, an unsuspecting girl turned the
knob, opened the door of the phone booth. I tumbled out into the hall
and limbs spilled onto the tile.
more deep laughing.
to spare any further heart attacks for those wishing to utilyze Ma Bell,
we untangled ourselves from the phone booth floor, stretched arms and
legs, and exchanged pained but relieved smiles...
somehow, there was a funky sort of healing on the phone booth floor.
[this afternoon, I discover, not only some lovely new personal messages,
but a letter from hotmail, announcing in response to my complaint, that
they have returned what they can...some still lost, but still,
most...most returned.]
thank you.
(do you know what I feel to say those words?)
lindsey renee'
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