View of the house from the road 


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A red rose for Claudia

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I cut a red rose close to the head and removed its thorns. It was small, but fully opened. Its fragrance filled my air and made me think of Claudia. Carefully, I placed it on an open page from the book I bought her. Baudellaire's collected poems. Not very romantic, but we both shared the same love for dark poetry. The rose found its place, evenly pressed by the weight of the pages around it. I kept the book for several days afterwards, to ensure that the rose took it well. When it works, the rose maintains its color and brightness with a trace of its aroma. Mine looked fine. Claudia was sitting alone, reading, at a small cafe called The Place, not far from where she lived. She was still wearing her school uniform, but she had on a thick, white virgin wool sweater over the top. It was the button down type, with big brown wood-like buttons. She looked terrific. Barely fifteen, and she lit my world. She was taking a sip from her tea as I approached. "Hi," I...
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Pedro, General Manager

We arrived in Miami in the spring of '97. I had secured a job beforehand working as an agent for a cargo airline at MIA. When we went to meet my new boss, my wife found him to be very engaging. Her first aside to me was "I'll bet you he throws some wild Christmas parties!" As it turned out, he was a little too engaging. His name was Pedro. An imposing man at 6'4", 325 pounds. He was well overweight. More than anything though, what stood out about him was his boisterous voice. Pedro usually spoke like he wanted the entire building to hear what he was saying. "What the fuck, Mr Child?" he would say to me. "How does a man of your education and stamina stay so fucking thin?" Most of what he said failed to make sense. He piled on words in no particular order and he tried to get his meaning across by sheer volume. Rarely did he let you speak, unless he thought you were going to agree with him. If not, he would continue with his bar...
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We're getting older...

I don't want to be very graphic about my activities, late yesterday afternoon. Suffice it to say that having several gloved medical personnel prying open your buttocks so that another may cut and scrape away offending blood clots from your anus, is not an enjoyable occurrence. I rank it up there with root canal or having my toenail removed (I had hemorrhaging below my big toenail and it was getting infected - they had to remove the entire toenail to get to it). I guess it's a sign of age, that the last few years I've had to undergo so many procedures. Things that ten years ago I barely knew existed. How we change... My wife turns 39 today. I turn 39 on Sunday. I married an older woman. This will be our last year before we hit the big ***40***. Funny, how I used to consider 40 as being old. Now, I'm vigorously trying to view it as a new beginning. We'll see. I have a whole year left to ponder it.
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