"Now, your report card is out on the counter, and guess what?"
"What?" he looked up at me from the boat he was repetitiously sinking into the water.
"I even put stickers one it."
"Stickers? And the stickers will be for me?" he asked.
"Well they're stuck to your report card, but you'll get to see all the things you did this session in swim with me. So it's time to get out now, go see your Daddy and you can get your report card."
A miracle happened then, for the first time in eight weeks, the adorable, spoiled little preschooler got out of the water without a fight. No coaxing necessary.
The next half hour was empty due to a cancelled class, so my fellow lifeguard, Cal, and I began cleaning up the deck. From across the pool he shouted my name. I looked up to see a childish grin on his face, he was holding the frisbees I'd used in class (entertaining props, not just for preschoolers) and he wanted me to catch them. I had to jump to catch the first, but the second came straight at me. I smiled inwardly that it was sort of aimed at my face, funny how the creative life can spill over into "real life."
"I'm heading out then," Cal said, his shift over.
"See you later," I said, heading to the women's locker room to get out of my wet bathing suit.
I got through the door and grabbed my towel before turning back. I was glad to catch him still out on deck.
"Or maybe I won't," I said.
"What?"
"I might not see you. This is my last shift with you before I take off for the summer, and you're leaving in the fall."
"Really? Man... Nah, I'm sure I'll see you again."
"Maybe," I said, "if you can't find a real job."
He laughed.
"That's a possibility. But if I don't see you in the fall, I'll see you way later." He made a big gesture with his arm, as if throwing a sloppy shot with a basketball.
Reminded of the knowledge of our shared heritage, growing up in gospel-preaching churches, a smile spread across my face and I nodded.
"Yeah. Way, way later."
"See you then," he said.
We parted then, and I didn't see him again. But it is good to know that I will, later on.
I've told you this before--how your nonfiction is almost always clean, tight, unforced, easy, neat, slick, pointed, sharp, textured, nuanced.
ReplyDeleteI know you've always held that grace either descends upon the page or it doesn't, it works or it fails. However, perhaps with a bit of refining, my fiction can become what somehow my non-fiction already is.
ReplyDeleteI think perhaps the difference is that these pieces are easier to get a handle on. They come off in a matter of minutes rather than months and usually, I'm only juggling one or two apples. But with a novel I'm juggling the whole fruit basket, and it's easier to get side-tracked.
ReplyDeleteI don't see that--to me this piece is all about sidetracks, good ones, fruitful ones, ones that loop back on themselves and loop the reader in:
ReplyDelete* report cards
* stickers
* "miracle"
* first goodbye
* frisbees
* play--probably nothing you'd put up with if civilians were doing it
* very light and snappy dialogue
* shared heritage--BOOM!
* second goodbye (goodbye for now)
That's just rich writing, writing you can throw off but writing that uses your strengths. My beef with Sparks is not that you are juggling too much but that you're not putting enough stuff in the air, not letting things have their moment, not letting one thing lead easily to another.
* real life/creative life
Sorry--the last asterisked item got stranded out of place.
Delete:(
Hm, poor precision of language, Danielle.
ReplyDeleteWhat I was trying to say was not so much that I get side-tracked with tangents, but rather that I think I get side-tracked from the overall of what I'm trying to do. In an effort to continue, sometimes I think I just make poor story-telling choices.