Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Vehicle

Tell us what you know about the heart, I write on the board. The boy from Senegal, the one who put up drywall in Bed-Stuy in last summer's heat takes out his mechanical pencil. I have never been a fan of the sleek, plastic objects, opting more often for yellow wood. I remember buying my seventh grade science teacher a pen that was marketed as having been "used by the astronauts." He worried about me. He once stopped to get gas when he was driving me home. People will try to take advantage of you, he said, and he said it in the way that said he was making a conscious decision not to take advantage of me. He would just take me home, he seemed to be telling himself; he would make sure I got in safe, wave. Those days, I took too many rides. I don't know where my parents were, or if they shrugged their shoulders when other people complained about shuttling children around. These days, I use a pen. Black, inky. I dip its tip in the well of my heart and hope for things to say.

7 comments:

Mary Thompson said...

what do you mean you didn't know where your parents were?? Love ya.

Nicole Callihan said...

Love you, mamma!

Amanda Herrold said...

WHAT???? Teachers were driving you home??? At least they weren't crawling thru your window!

Nicole Callihan said...

True, Amanda! Strange days. & this little writing was bizarre. It just came out when I was writing with my students. Memory is slippery!

Sarah Dohrmann said...

More of this, stat. I can tell it's a sliver of its bigger pencil self.

drjalepeno said...

Slippery memory??? Slippery teenager?? I will take the 5th on this one.

alice copper said...

Having a vehicle is essential thing for every one. We can easily reach one place to another with the help of vehicle. So it's good for us.

Lone Mountain Truck Leasing