Wednesday, January 14, 2004

On Wednesday, January 14, 2004
the sun didn't come out. "Where did you go?" asked Pete the following morning.

"I'm busy," said the sun. "I have business besides southern Wisconsin, you know. You should know this."

"Do you remember the time when I stopped to watch you set over the farm fields south of Merrill?" asked Pete. "Way back in 1999?"

"Yes, I remember it fondly. You were driving north on County K, on your way home from a piano lesson. You pulled over to the shoulder on top of a large hill."

"That's right. I could see forever from that hill. Fields and forests for miles around, houses tiny as fingernails."

"You looked quite confident, leaning on the hood of your mom's Saturn. But kinda weird. The passing cars kept slowing down and staring."

"I didn't mind. The air was perfect, like a warm bath. And the colors . . . you really outdid yourself."

"Thank you."

"And it wasn't just the sky. The grass, the trees, everything looked beautiful, every color took its cue, vibrated, and pulled new life from the inside. The grass glowed. The trees bathed. The hay shone."

"Do you remember it that clearly? Perhaps you made up those colors, not me. This was a vital time in your life, you know. Everything would change."

"The Madison brochures were already pouring in through the mail. I'd talked to my roommate on the phone. My friends were leaving and returning from orientation at various schools. We had only weeks. That's why I stopped. That's why I pulled the car over to the shoulder and got out to watch the sunset. It was my way of affirming who I was and where I'd come from, of assuring myself that I would not forget. I loved my friends and I felt the impermanence. An urgency coursed through me, an urgency of pulling every last moment from our waning time together. I stopped to watch the sunset, I drank it in. It was war against time."

"Did you win?"

"Uh, no. But I have good memories. Like this sunset, thousands like it. They provide comfort and reassurance."

"But Pete, you should not always look back. You must not ignore me, here in front of you right now. I am still here. You can still get something from me to carry. You can call it a war against time, though personally that's a bit melodramatic for my taste. But I know what you're trying to say. As long as you live, keep your affirmation potent, your assurance fresh. You may draw blood from the present as well as the past."

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