Friday, September 21, 2007

The One Second Vista

Traffic has made me late and tense so when I get the chance I park and run.

I fly past a flash looking restaurant with its large street facing windows open wide.

There is a perfectly white table cloth. There are two wood framed chairs. There are two similar looking women.

A young woman dressed for business, a lawyer maybe, reads a menu. Watching her lovingly, forlornly, an older lady dressed in her best clothes, a mother maybe.

Are they really mother and daughter? Did the mother really fly all the way across this massive country to see her daughter? Did she really fly all that way on her own?

But it seems that there is still a huge distance between them. It looks to me like the mother wants to reach out and touch her daughters hand. It looks like she’s bursting to say,

“You don’t have to spend all this money to impress me; I’ve always been proud of you”

I feel like calling out to her,

“Just say it!”

But I’m late.
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