March 14, 2006

Potatoes

I remember standing in the room where the coats were, debating what to do. Change is pressed upon one. This was her translation from the French. The question was about whether change is possible.

When she arrived, she smiled and waved. Had she come over and talked, I would have welcomed it, but since she didn’t, I stayed on the couch.

Later, as people took their seats, I saw an open seat beside her and almost took it but instead went to the kitchen to get my potatoes. By the time I finished transferring the potatoes to a serving dish, another man was in that seat.

In the room with the coats, I decided she wasn’t for me and vice versa. I may have been wrong, but you cannot divide yourself into two people and live two lives to see which turns out best.

There is another world, she said, again translating from the French, but it is in this one.