D is for Diet Coke

I can't deny you are a rotten nutrient,

but oh such a delectable poison!

The Refraction of Water

           Stephen Banks never had perfect vision.  He did not discover that he had 50/10 vision, however, until age twelve, when the teachers at PS 404 demanded that he be taken to be tested.  He was always the quiet, helpful child in the back row who never had a lunch and got by in school and life mostly through the generosity of his peers.  He had to learn early on to rely on the kindness of strangers.  This gratitude and the desire to give back, in turn, led him to the job he currently holds at Meadowbrook Nursing Home. 
           He was able to end his shift early to head to the Walmart's parking lot and began waiting anxiously.  The big day was finally here.  Stephen wondered if she would recognize him; he was ashamed to admit to himself that her face was a distant memory to him now.  Mostly when he thought of her the only thing he could pull out of his memory was the smell of Newports and Elvis songs.  It's funny what the mind chooses to remember and what it chooses to forget.
            Focusing on the street, he saw a white Buick Le Sabre pull hesitantly into the empty parking lot.  He sucked in his gut automatically (even though he was still in his truck) and checked his teeth in the rearview mirror.  At this point what's done is done, he repeated to himself like a mantra, in reference to the situation.  Fear gripped his chest and he held nervously onto the door handle as the Le Sabre slowed to a crawl by the side of his truck, finally stopping three spots down from him.  Would she be angry that he didn't look for her sooner?  Should he be less angry that she didn't?
           The rain was coming down gently now, as if the universe was playing into the dramatics occurring in the Walmart parking lot. 
           When he couldn't take one more second of the panic in his throat he opened the door, strangely comforted by the familiar feel of the spring shower against his skin.  He did not know her smile or remember her voice, but he was certain of the sound of the rain smacking on the asphalt.  At once Stephen became hyperaware of her vague form approaching. He kept his head downward, willing himself to keep walking toward her as well.  The five year old boy in him was too terrifed to look directly at her.  Scenes of countless foster homes played in his memory.  Everything had brought him here to this.
          There was a lightness in his head as he felt his glasses slide off his face and heard them bounce on the pavement.  
          Bending down, he blindly fumbled for them. Crouching to retrieve them, he suddenly became furious that her first impression of him after all this time would be this.  He couldn't even keep glasses on his face! Years of hatred boiled up and he felt the vomit begin to rise in his throat.  
          "Stephen?" her voice called and anchored him briefly to the earth.
          He swallowed and began to put his glasses back on as he stood in front of this shadowy, colossal figure that had followed him all his life.  A phantom had become flesh.    There was a brief moment before she came into focus that Stephen saw the cresent shape reflections of the water droplets on his glasses.  He knew that when he looked past them, for the first time, he would see his mother.      


I'm sorry this Magpie was so long, i know usually we like to keep these short...but i am avoiding a take home exam and writing this was more pleasureable that doing the dishes.  Thanks for reading!

C is for Core

                

             There's an anorexic on the treadmill in front of me.  I'm not being facetious or funny, i mean like a legit anorexic.  One where her muscles are all ropey from malnourishment and her legs look a baby colt's. I've got her routine down now to a science.  She hops on the third or fourth treadmill in the front row in between 3:25-3:30 PM everyday (alright, i don't go every day myself but that's a technicality. and on the days i do go, she's there and still sprinting when i leave).  She wears those running shorts that are cut up the side, usually in green and sometimes in fuchsia. You know the kind.  The ones that runners wear to identify themselves as runners that I'm pretty sure are only sold at secret stores.
              Anyway, Anorexic hops on and begins jogging.  At the fifteen minute mark she takes off her shirt to continue running in her black sports bra, never skipping a beat.  She doesn't break for water.  She's too tough for water.  At 4:00 she plugs an earphone in her right ear and listens to Oprah on one of the giant televisions in front of me.  I wonder if she's deaf  in her left ear or has a phobia about using both earbuds.  I make up stories about her from the elliptical machine when I'm not too busy scrolling through my playlists or jumping off to visit the drinking fountain.  It's sad when rehydrating becomes a fun excursion.. 
             On the whole i've gotten okay with the fact that joining this gym has turned me into a semistalker.  Not a full on stalker, mind you, where i follow strangers donning leather gloves, but a partial stalker where i  make up stories in my head about their banal, suburban lives.  There's only so much you can look at while on a freakin elliptical machine.  It's either observe people or stare at the parking lot.
             I mention this to my trainer one day, asking if the Anorexic is here all the time (i realize this totally makes me sound like a stalker and my previous statement sound not very credible-- but think what you will.)  I then announce that if i begin to look like her I'm upping my "cheat day"s from one day a week to two days a week.  My trainer is too nice to tell me that possibility is a long way off.  Instead she chuckles politely and steers me over to the rows of kettleballs.
            "We're gonna do your core now," she states briefly.  I have learned that what she means when she says this is, "I'm gonna make you do weird shit that you will hate me for."  Actually I'm still unsure as to what my "core" is exactly, but it's too late to ask my trainer at this point.  It's like when you let someone call you by the wrong name for a time and then someone else finally corrects them and you feel like the stupid one. All i know is that usually these exercises involve me rolling around on the floor while sticking my legs in the air or mimicking a mountain climber.  Sometimes there's crab-like motions from one end of the gym to the other involved.  If it's something that makes me look stupid, guarantee you it's "strengthening my core."
           This exercising thing is kind of a crock.  But i guess if i have quit smoking i might as well be openminded and punish myself some more, right?  Don't get me wrong, i love playing with giant rubber bands and putting my belongings in a 4x4 locker.  I'm just saying i wish there were parachutes or roller scooters like in elementary school.  Then i might go every day.  Until then i just need to stick with the commitment i started and reserve judgement about this...which is hard for me, because judging is one of the things i do best! 
            I will let you guys know what i think about this whole gym experience in a couple months, and if i can stick it out.  I guess it's all part of the process.  The process of what, i don't know exactly, but it is part of the process of something.  Growing up?  Trying to get my outsides to match my insides?  Letting go of fear?  My gut kinda tells me it's the last one, but i dont remember when i was taught fear in the first place.  I imagine we're all like little kids on fancy playground equipment, hoping to be noticed and not noticed at the same time.  One of these days i will walk past Anorexic, pull the plug out of her ears and scream, "Whatever you are running towards--hate to break it to you--but you're not gonna get there!"  Or maybe i will just stand back and watch her chasing ghosts from my stationary bike.  In any case, i gotta go ice my core now.
          

A to Z Challenge to the Blogosphere

          Who's up for the challenge?  Personally i will be impressed if i can make it halfway through the month...i have a tendency to be an excellent starter but a not-so-excellent finisher.  That being said, i stumbled across this challenge on a fellow blogger's page and the idea caught my attention. 
         Why NOT try to post something every day, specifically related to a particular letter of the alphabet?  I am trying to change my life using baby steps.  This challenge seemed like a fun "baby-step" to keeping my words flowing...does it sound like i am hyping myself up?  Cuz i am!  Come on, it'll be great!  I swear!  (and we don't have to do it on Sundays...even bloggers must rest on the seventh day)