Just Looking

The music was loud, the strategically erratic lighting was a prelude to a migraine, and the men were all too young for him. Didn’t matter, he wasn’t hoping to talk any of them off the dance floor and into his car. This club, all the lithe swaying bodies, were his gift to himself.

Happy Birthday!

His eyes on the dance floor, David toasted himself and remembered when he had been one with the press of flesh in the middle of the club, when the music had beat through him…when he’d found himself, who he was and who he wanted, in the arms of strangers.

He didn’t regret those years, but he didn’t wish them back again either. He didn’t have the energy anymore, or the interest. He’d long ago learned that new didn’t mean better.

He wasn’t looking to hook up, he was just looking. Enjoying the view. Happy that he could enjoy the view. Happy that he was here at all, when for a while there he’d thought he might not be.

David nursed his drink, watched bodies merge and separate, heads thrown back and arms punching up into the storm of flashing lights above. He inhaled the life in the room, the laughter on the air, and smiled at the thought of next year, and the year after that.

He set his empty glass down and stood, dropped cash on the table.

“You leaving?” Blue eyes grinned up at David from under a mop of dark hair that was shaved on one side.

“Uh, yeah, I was just…”

“Looking?” The kid stepped into David’s space, brushed against him at thigh and hip. “Yeah, me too.”

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Shelf Life

I find myself living in a house with a lot of built-in display space. Previous residences having been heavy on bare walls and light on decorative touches, this is the first time I’ve had to sooth empty shelves and glass fronted cabinets crying out to be filled.

In response to the uncomfortably naked shelves, I set about rounding up various trinkets that had been hidden in cupboards and closets for so long I was surprised to see them.

A vase here, a photo album there, and me being me, a couple of stuffed animals and I was done. Bits and pieces of a life laid out before me. A pastiche of family, and trips, and time.

Each object holds a memory, a story. Most of them G-rated except for one small glass dish, edged in blue. Entirely unexceptional unless, like me, you happen to remember the hour preceding its purchase 🙂

One item though, doesn’t have a story.

I don’t know where it came from or when. It was just always there, a doorstop in my parent’s house. I look at it now and I wonder…

But there’s no one to ask. Not any more.

Aimer at Amazon

Too Close For Comfort

Built in 1915, Vancouver’s Heritage Hall has watched over Main Street for more than a century.

A landmark building known for its clock tower and red tile roof, this example of Beaux Arts Classicism was originally home to Postal Station C, but these days she sees more wedding cake than mail as the newly married pose for pictures on her red marble staircase.

The staircase isn’t the only feature that has survived the years. Lurking in the basement men’s room is an oddity that comes as quite a surprise to male guests—a twin urinal.

Ben Nelms/CBC

The double-sided design of the urinal forces strangers to stand opposite each other while nature takes its course. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” reported one of the wedding guests. “You’re standing next to someone you’ve never met and you have to look him in the eyes.”

Too close for comfort?

That would be a yes.

Aimer at Amazon

Capturing Time

In his post, How Not to Kill Time, Hugh got me to thinking about our perception of time and how that changes with…well, time.

Hugh uses the analogy of a toilet roll, the nearer you get to the end, the quicker it runs out. With more years behind me than in front of me, I find that to be true. Summer afternoons that used to last forever are a blur now. Days bleed into each other until I find myself asking Google for the date because I’ve lost track of what month it is.

I spent my youth wishing time would move faster, waiting for the next holiday or birthday. I wanted to kick time into high gear when my kids were little, longing to be me again and not mom.

Now, when my kids have kids of their own and I can see my end date looming on the horizon, I want to slow time down. I want to stop it altogether. So many lives I haven’t lived while I was busy living mine. So many things I haven’t done …

I can’t stop time, of course. None of us can. The best we can do is treasure the moments. Sunshine on water, or trickling through the leaves of a tree. A hand holding yours. Shared laughter. A smile.

What is life, but a string of moments?

Aimer at Amazon