6 Feb, 2015: Piñatas

Long afternoon shadows. Watching kids strike a small, child-shaped piñata in the park. The scene eerily not unlike someone lynched, beaten. The act senseless were it not for the candy splayed out onto the grass, soon to be in the clutches of tiny, selfish hands.

We do things like purchase piñatas for children to beat on at birthday parties without ever knowing why.

I look to the families, specifically the parents, standing cooly on the park’s grass in clean, hip clothing, as if I can somehow figure out how they manage to seem so good at life, so effortless in their ability to sip lemon flavored water and stand around discussing their kids, or their jobs, or perhaps the idea of putting down fake grass in their small heavily-shaded yards.

I look to them in amused, respectful jealousy. Jealous for the families they have; longing for the family I want – the family I’ve always wanted.

So maybe I’ll take up running again and I’l get it all together. All on a silver platter. All tied up with a bow on it. A bow for a wife as beautiful as the one standing with her back to me in the yellow flowery dress and the black, soft looking cardigan – long auburn-brown hair flowing down her back, topped with one of those hip tropical hats with the small brim. I’ll get it all wrapped up for a woman as good as her, a girl as good as my exes. Better. Or maybe better ’cause I’ll be. And though I sound as melancholy and embattled as Kerouac, I mean it as Kerouac never did.

Yellow dress girl has put on her shoes – corky, chunky heels, which ruin the bohemian, kombucha-making-mom image I had projected onto her. And on by walks another, prettier girl, and so the dream begins again. She tosses her hair back over her shoulder, as I look on, and I am enchanted. For she does not wear corky, chunky heels – but flat-soled canvas shoes, like the ones I wear.

Yellow dresses, black dresses, purple dresses. It’s a day and a feeling as timeless as the lyrics to Coldplay’s “Shiver”:

And I’ll always be waiting for you. And it’s you I see, but you don’t see me… So I look in your direction, but you pay me no attention. And you know how much I need you, but you never even see me, do you.