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flashback
Sitting around the dinner table from me were two faces I’d known since 1994. They look the same and yet, so worldly. I’m thrilled to still have them in my life. Our conversations may have shifted from crushes to husbands, homework to houses, and babysitting gigs to (their own) babies, but the laughter, love, and respect are always present.
The first portion of the walk home, E called her husband to check in. Minimally aware of their conversation, I was acutely aware of having been here before. My first year in Boston, E and I were roommates and she’d talk to her then boyfriend, now husband every night at 11. Their plan to combat the long distance love affair. Then and now, I’d catch snatches of conversation, not intentionally listening, but knowing what I did hear was part of a grand story of love.
conversations with strangers #122
12.10.15
Him: Good morning.
Me: Good morning.
A simple exchange, but you see, he’s a school crossing guard and I am neither a school child nor the parent of one. He presides there on the corner of two crosswalks every school day. A neon yellow vest, a handheld stop sign, and a penchant for small talk. I’m a pedestrian without a small child tugging on my attention, and so am able to check for cars/pass quickly across one of the crosswalks under his guard. He doesn’t need to raise that stop sign for me.
Instead, he offers me a warm greeting.
Maybe it’s that crossing guards are a rare breed of kindness or maybe this is a look into my future (kids, school days) via a crystal ball crossing guard?
impossible
The impossible can take on many forms, such as my Halloween inspiration:
I first attempted it on Halloween 2014 because I was feeling lazy and the thought of pulling together/buying various articles of clothing to form a costume was too much. I wanted to use what I already had on hand. A black dress, crazy patterned tights, a headband with a tiny witch’s hat on it, and a variety of makeup.
My look ended up more understated than the inspiration, but serviceable nevertheless.
This Halloween, I expanded my makeup options by borrowing some purple eyeshadows and nail art stickers from a friend. I gathered every form of eye makeup I had and added M’s stash to it. I knew the look was achievable (see: last year), but the crowd of liners and shadows and brushes and crayons and mascaras and fake lashes took my breath away.
My hands jittered as I switched from brushes and shadows to liquid liners and back. I swiped and dusted and pulled and wiped off and poked and stepped back and dabbed and traced and removed and added and squinted and shook my head and blended. I used eyelash glue for the first time. The blacks and blues and purples piled up, each layer thicker than the last. Nail art stuck to my face and my fingertips.
Q-tips + a smear of lotion were a formidable combination against the many mistakes and mis-starts and re-dos.
Focusing on one section of my face, one brush stroke, one minute at a time, my face transformed.
My elation with the final product was tempered by the realization I had only 5 minutes until I had to leave. I still needed to divide up my and M’s makeups, clean up the spills and overflows, pack my purse, and get dressed in my official outfit.
My polished self locked the door, leaving the disheveled bathroom behind. That would have to be future Abby’s impossible task.
fire alarms
There’s a pattern in my life and I’m not sure how to interpret it, so let’s dissect the research.
#1. I started at my current day job in February 2007. Two weeks later, someone was using the kitchen’s stove top and mid-burger, smoke smoke smoke, and all the fire doors slammed shut. The entire building had to be evacuated. As everyone gathered outside, one name was whispered over and over again. It was a unisex name, but traditionally more female than male. As as people’s voices repeated the name (with annoyance, with non-surprise, with humor) and as they got louder to be heard over the fire engines, a man walked out wearing a sheepish expression. I got my first introduction to that editor and his brilliant, yet distracted, mind.
#2. I moved to an apartment in May 2010. A week later, at 3am, I woke to red/white lights pouring in through my bedroom window. The scary part was I couldn’t hear the fire alarm going off with my bedroom door closed. The not-scary part was it was unintentionally tripped and me not evacuating was a non-issue. I mean, sort of. The also not-scary part was I lived on the first floor and could have easily climbed out the side window which overlooked a parking lot. Lots of cars to stand on / ease the transition from apartment to outdoors. The scary part was my landlord was a slumlord and didn’t seem to care I couldn’t hear the hallway alarm if my door was closed. I never slept with my bedroom door closed again.
#3. I moved to a new apartment in April 2015. The steady beep-beep-beep of a smoke alarm cut through my unpacking. I poked my head into the hall to see my super walk by. Yes! I moved away from a slumlord and moved in next to the super for my building. He took care of the situation before it escalated. I was able to unpack without any interruptions or further high pitched sounds.
The alarms seem to be happening sooner and sooner after my moves + they’re losing steam from event to event + things supposedly happen in threes = I should be all set with this side effect of my life. Agreed? What else could this be saying about me? Do you have any unusual patterns in your life?
Abigail Mumford 