"MANY OYSTERS - FEW PEARLS" by Toni Wolf
Snowflakes fell in dime size pieces of frozen lace; a million sparkly filigreed coins blanketed and muffled everything under bolts of winter tatting. There were few footprints for a city sidewalk. It was hours past the time most folks had gone to bed, and minutes before most bars would be letting out - that still time of night when evening seems to be holding its breath.
I had just gotten off work from washing dishes at a downtown bar and restaurant, and hadn't wanted my shift drink. The air was crisp but comfortable, and though my ears glowed pink, there was no real need for a hat. I had fashioned my scarf in a few loose loops around my neck; drawing breaths of frosted air through wool soon formed a moist pocket at my chin - cupping and curling the smells of stale food grease and cigarette smoke up my nose.
Snowflakes swirled - playing tricks on me by rising up as well as falling down. These small refracted crystals, dancing against street lamps decorated in twinkling Christmas lights, made me question where quantum left off and relativity began. It had been a year since I graduated from art school, and wouldn't be much longer before I'd make a pact with myself to never work a standard job again; I hadn't gone to art school to wash dishes.
*The opening three paragraphs to "Many Oysters - Few Pearls."
2 comments:
Our choices have costs that are realized as investments in the people we dream to be. A few pearls maybe, come with the anticipation of opening every shell and an acquired taste for oysters.
You have opened many shells and will no doubtedly open many more, and we are witness to the pearls you have found and look forward to those not yet discovered.
Wonderful, Toni.
No, the Lord She didn't make ya to grind down your spirit in a full-time wage job. She didn't. She told me so.
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