I was walking back to work a couple of days ago, when I saw a Winnebago type RV driving towards me. In the big window behind the driver, in the area where I imagine the dinner table and the semi-circled upholstered bench was, I saw a teenage girl. She was looking out the window. Just an everyday kind of girl, but what drew my attention to her was the smothering suffocation of boredom that was contained in her look. If her sadness would have allowed it, we'd have made eye contact. As it was, she simply dirged past me, shackled to her misery, in her motorized prison.
How sad did she look? Well, if she was placed in amongst any random train-car, sardine-packed with WWII occupation-enslaved Jews on thier way to the death-camp, she'd stick out as 'the sad-looking one'. How sad did she look? She looked like it was her third time watching Nancy Beck's latest show. It was as if she had Matthew's death-scene (where Marilla sings "I Can't Find The Words") in Anne of Green Gables on permanent replay loop in her mind. That's how sad she looked.
She looked so sad that I immediately thought, after the RV drove past, that if I had only three wishes, I'd waste one of them just so I could make time go back fifteen seconds, so that when she drove past me again, I'd wave at her, and hopefully instill some small glimmer of kindness in her life. Even if it only boost her spirits for a moment, and only if the boost was miniscule, it'd be worth it. For humanity. That's how sad she looked.
Then I thought: she's likely on vacation, in her parent's lovely big RV which means she's probably in a family that's economically stable, most likely pouting because she's not in Cavendish and her parents are gonna force her go on an afternoon walking tour full of Charlottetown history, while I'm trudging back to work on a sunny 27 degree day on PEI, while my car rusts out. My car's in such a sorry state that the stereo can't even play cassettes, and the back-end is making noises like an elephant squealing at a mouse.
My final decision was not to use one of my three wishes on her. I decided instead that she can take her sullen sorry ass and give it a kick.
2 comments:
I am the parent of such a victim of oppression...
My 16 year old considers it child abuse if I remind her that it isn't a good idea to have a full glass of diet Pepsi standing next to her new $2000 lap top, that could be easily knocked over on to the machine as she plays air drums...
She hates me and every one else.
Lovely piece of writing, Rob ... and Calico, the good news is, they grow out of it ...
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