Author Archives: Christene
Legos
Legos are one of the first tools children have to explore their imagination, building and rebuilding castles, ships, and all forms of architecture. As adults we are more cautious, relying on logic to erect our homes and skyscrapers, meticulously building one brick at a time, making sure everything balances and has a strong foundation. But like children we still want to play. Sometimes we build structures that we are not happy with but haven’t the slightest clue how to fix. Then someone else comes along and shows us how to build, but the foundation we have doesn’t hold all the changes. We collaborate with our new partners at play on how to improve, and the solution seems ever so simple – just start all over. They will be able to help us build from scratch. So we trust our new friend to come play as we build another better structure together. We destroy our Lego house down to its roots, making sure to leave no two pieces intact. Then we wait to start a new construction, except no one comes. And we are left sitting idly, surrounded by hundreds of broken Lego pieces that our own hands tore apart with expectation. Only to realize our new playmate is no longer interested in Legos. They have moved on to board games as we try to stack the blocks in some sort of shape resembling a recognizable structure while remembering that we once had a house. And never forgetting that we did this to ourselves.
Picnic in the Rain
I want to watch it rain. I want to walk underneath a tortured sky and look at all the pretty buildings while taking pictures of their architecture on the darkest days. I want to be cold and wet on a sidewalk in the middle of nowhere. All dressed up. All made up. And let the rain wash it all away into nothingness.
I want to peel the paint off the walls and uncover the coats of thirty years ago, moldy from the rain and faded. And I want to eat cheese and crackers in a dilapidated kitchen, falling apart, without working appliances while it pours outside. No heaters, broken windows, still cold and wet. With my damn cheese and crackers. Who said I can’t have a picnic by myself?
I want doors that don’t lock, and drawers that won’t close. I want to be where everything creeks and the bulbs are exposed, providing the only light against an angry sky. I want only one couch, torn and stained on a cement floor where I can watch the rain bleeding into the living room through the cracks in what used to be windows but are now only panes with peeling white paint. I can sit and watch the puddle on the floor grow and not care. The sun can dry it up tomorrow. Today I would just like to sit and stare for a while.
Spring is coming, or maybe it went, with all its promises of showers and flowers and saccharine nonsense. Spring is awful. Except for the chocolate eggs. I suppose those are okay.
I want sheets of water falling from the sky to deface the earth and baptize and sterilize. I want to watch it fall, almost afraid to go outside, but too giddy not to. I want to touch it, testing its strength one limb at a time, extending my arm from underneath a useless umbrella and letting the jet ricochet and splash the rest of me. I want to be drenched and cold until I am numb. With a box of assorted crackers and a package of brie. Sitting on the hood of my car taking it all in. Who said I can’t have a picnic by myself?
I want a cup of hot coffee in my hand and icy water on my forehead. I want to shiver to tears while the rain washes it all away. Diluting my coffee and cleansing my face.
I want to flirt with pneumonia and feel alive once more if that is what it takes. With now watered down coffee, soggy crackers and mushy cheese. I will just have a picnic by myself.