letting em have it

this morning bumper to bumper on i-94 i thought about letting someone have it. a particular someone. no, not a particular someone. anyone. i re-imagined my mom, frustrated, digging her heels in and yelling, sitting on the kitchen floor: "you don't understand!" she yelled at my dad. dad stood by, unhelpful, confusion pasted onto his face. "get off the floor, elaine." a statement a demand a plea, leaning not leaning leaning against the counter next to ma. play fair, do say think something i understand, he didn't say. speak in my language, he didn't say. "please," he finally said.

i park, i walk. i see a woman running full blast. she's about 500 yards away and i catch her voice way before i catch her.

"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!" she screams and runs.

then the bus cuts her out of my vision. then she's back. not running any more. exhausted. but she's not done till she lets out one last grand phrase.

now she's done.

and i wave at her. like two VWs passing on the street. sympatiche.