Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Wild World

I am going to meet an old friend for breakfast.  That is the easy way to describe her: an old friend.  We were in a relationship for a short time.  We started our friendship with substantial age differences. There was a Cat Stevens thing between us, the wild world.  The last-minute condescending advice as she leaves that says, I don't think you understand what it takes to make it, a smile is insufficient defense against the world, it is not the currency that you think it is... Long before she was gone I was part friend, part older brother, and only lastly lover.  But there was always an air of advice between us; a wind that only blew in one direction.  From my pinnacle of wisdom I would give her counsel on how to live, you see.  I had no idea that the wind was strong enough for her to set sail on.

So, I put on a Cat Stevens album this morning in preparation. To remind myself not to dispense advice. The first song on the album Tea For The Tillerman is "Where Do The Children Play." Hence the picture above, an unrelated photo, the child of some friends running joyous laps around our summer picnic. 

Of course her and I are both older than we were then. (I almost made the mistake of adding the word "much" to the last sentence.) We know different things now.  We have presumably learned from our mistakes and there is no need for silly advice any more.  Life is what has happened, is happening.  Or perhaps she will dispense some unexpected and useful worldly guidance. Who knows. What will I say, I wonder.  Perhaps we will talk exclusively about photography.  Her, the educated one now, giving instruction and dispensing technical wisdom on what to look for, what to see.

Probably none of this will materialize. We will sit and have breakfast and chat freely.  But for this morning I needed something to write about, right?

"I hope you have a lot of nice things to wear,  But then a lot of nice things turn bad out there"