Thursday, April 10, 2008

past lives

I am having lunch with my former advisor from high school. Like, high school -- it feels like it was 100 years ago.

She is running a little late, so I am sitting at Garden of Eden seule, deeply engrossed in the most recent issue of the Weekly Dig. I pay attention though, through the corner of my eye. Whenever I see a hint of motion, I look vain, to see my favorite waiter leaving as he closes out his shift, a man in a sport coat looking for a table for one, a woman in track pants waiting for a friend. It keeps not being her and I keep reading.

Then suddenly I hear a familiar voice..."Kirsten...? Hi!" There she is!

"Oh my god, hi!" I say and we hug. "It's you! Wow!"

"I know," she says, "I didn't see you at first! I was looking for red!"

Red...? I think. Then I recall: this woman knew me 100 years ago when I was fifteen years old and SO MATURE and had red hair. It was so long ago, such a different life I almost forgot. She knew all of my early hair phases in fact -- Manic Panic Deadly Night Shade (pinky-purple), Ultra Violet (very purple), Fire Engine Red (exactly what it sounds like), henna (when I transitioned into my hippie phase).

Oh, how far we have come since then...

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