November 10, 2002

Writings about Nothings.*
We came to the gates of the parking garage at nearly the same instant. My gate opened a half-second or so before hers, but I was in the merge lane and she had the right-of-way given an equal playing field. I waved her on. She waved me on. I waved her on again and she went. In the elapsed second we had become aware of the complexities of the situation.. She waved me on because she was playing by the rule of “whichever gate opened first got to go first”. I waved her on due to the dual weight of my being in the merge lane and that she was female, with its attending chivalric requirements.


The leaves now surrender in the French fashion; they fall in great waves, subject to a moderate wind. The forest floor is bathed in the yellow litter and I come up on a 12-point buck just off the path. He stares, immobile. I walk by and watch as he eventually becomes comfortable enough to cross the path, not twenty feet from me. I momentarily indulge a delusion of grandeur, like I’m St. Francis and the animals love me. It is, by the way, uncanny how our German Shepherd will come up to bedroom to lie quietly when I begin to pray.

* - the new, upscale mall that opened recently puts a period behind titles, like they did back in the 19th century. Hence the period.

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