It all comes back to story

The first came on the bus…they were friends, friends for life with vastly different views of the world, and the moment I eavesdropped on was the one finally telling the other to get off her high horse and stop pitying her because she was happy with her life…she meant it too…yes she was a waitress, cleaning up vomit and pocketing tiny tips…but she didn’t need  college degrees and endless hours of work…she didn’t need her job to define her…she just needed it to pay her so that she could live her life and define  herself…later two guys walked side by side and one of the guy’s little sister remembered coming upon a scene where they were locked in an amorous embrace…she didn’t understand what she was seeing then…had no frame of reference for it… the thing that strikes her about them now though is how normal they are…how happy in each others’ embrace…is the story about the sister and her brother, the two men…the little sister?…one of the men is an importer/exporter, one works in his dad’s electronics business…their romance happens in the corridors of their life but is the biggest part of their lives…they are not stereotypical in any way…and every one sort of knows but looks the other way…who knows where these people came from…they’re not real people though real people inspire them…people I walk by as I walk…who knows why they linger as they do… or if they’ll hang around long enough for me to catch the details of their lives…hard to do when you’re chasing bills and hustling gigs…but one of the pluses of riding the bus and walking everywhere…who needs a working car?…is how much you observe and how much it triggers and how much your mind wanders…snagging a random detail…the way, his locks snake down his back…the way they both wear their clothes baggy but one’s heftier than the other other…and playing with the images…do their hands brush even as they keep their distance walking side by side through the city?…is that oversized shirt his shirt or the other’s?…how do they exist, find normal, in this world where such things aren’t normal?…and who are those women, the waitress and her friend…is one of them the girlfriend, the sister…and if she’s the girlfriend, does she know she’s the cover…and why does the sister have slanted eyes in her brown face?…what’s their ethnicity?…so many threads…such yearning to pause and pause and pause and just thread them together … that they exist …that my mind takes these sideway trips is one of the things I like about the writing life…that time eludes me (and let’s not get started on money) is the challenge… the pushing water uphill challenge of this life…well that and the rejections… yep, another day, another fellowship rejection (how many is that this month)… some days, it’s too heavy to carry, this bag of rejections…and yet the stories keep me light and floaty…even on the days I contemplate letting it all go.