What'd You Expect?

"I don’t know. That’s the answer. I just don’t know. I couldn’t tell you who I am or where I’ve been, much less where I’m going. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m… supposed to.

There’s this story… my grandfather would tell me. Well, there were a lot of stories, but there was one in particular that he’d always tell. That he’d love to tell. And I’d always listen. Not because I wanted to. I did want to, it’s not that I didn’t. But I mean… I felt I had to. You know? And it was always different. Always. Not so much in the way that he’d tell it, but in the way that I’d listen.

I couldn’t tell it to you now. I almost… I almost forget how it goes. I remember what it was about, I think. Or… or what I thought it was about, back when I was six or seven. Or eight. But I couldn’t tell you.

I remember, though, always listening hard. Really… hard. Like I was searching for something. Something behind it. For something… for some reason. Maybe I wanted it to tell me something about who he was, my grandfather. Or who I was. I don’t know. And I felt he was to. Even back when I was six, I felt like he was searching… he was searching too. Maybe that’s why he always told it. Maybe he was looking for something. He always told it the same way, and he always told it slowly, and there was always… always this half smile on his face like he was so close. Like he was halfway there. Like he was going to find it first. But I don’t… I don’t think he ever did.

That’s who he was, you know? That’s who he became. He was an old man who told stories. Who was looking for something. And then he died.

And maybe that’s where I’m headed. I’m just supposed to… spend my life searching for something, some unknown thing that might not even exist. And then I die. Like he did.

But then, you know… What’d you expect?"

Grant Park

"Why don't we play like that anymore, Harold?" she asked.

The two yellow puppies ran through the snow, jumping on one another, rolling down the hill and barking loudly. Their owner ran after them, leashes coiled in his pocket.

Harold kept walking, hands in his pockets.

"Because I'm not a fucking dog, Sheila."

Sheila tugged at the scarf wrapped around her neck and frowned at him. The wrinkles around her thin lips tightened.

They walked side by side. Harold's hands always in his pockets, Sheila's always grasping her scarf.

"I'm not a dog, either," she said sternly.

"Well, there you go," Harold sighed.

DON'T WALK

He came to a halt at the crosswalk. His head tipped back to look up at the city, his eyes squinting as snow fell gently onto his bifocals.

"What?" She looked up at him.

"What?" He tilted his head towards her.

She stood up on tippy toe. "What did you say?"

He looked down at her, bundled stiffly in one little scarf and her old red jacket. He smiled. The wrinkles at the corner of his mouth danced. "Nothing."

Ode To My Big Green Boots

Oh my big green boots
Oh dear me
Where would I be without you, my big green boots?

To think, big green boots, to think I used to walk around
Walk around the very city I walk around now with YOU my big green boots
YOU
I would walk around that very city, big green boots, in shoes that were not only made of rubber, big green boots
Rubber!
But also had holes in them, big green boots.

You can imagine, big green boots
as can anyone with even the slightest imagination
That with the changing of the seasons
And the falling of the snow
That my feet, big green boots, may have gotten a tad wet and cold.

Well let me just state here and now, big green boots, to say those feet got a TAD wet and cold would be the worst of all understatements!
For the holes in these old shoes were the most convenient of passage ways to my feet, big green boots, for the wintery weather!

But now, with you, my big green boots, I can brave the wettest and coldest of the wintery season
With our powers combined, big green boots
With my outrageous height and stride and overall size, big green boots
And you with your bulk and warmth and overall waterproofness, big green boots
Together we have braved over seven of the city's deepest and broadest puddles.

Together, big green boots, the possibilities are endless.
Together, big green boots, we can rule the world.