Adults

She is just as much of a place to me as a person.
Second floor walk-up. Skylights illuminate with clarity all day long. Nightfall, when she arrives; LEDs that automatically come on. Stupendous heat in the winter; hand-in-hand with chill air during summer. Double-pane windows seem misplaced in an apartment with north-facing views. Every other month, for a period of 14 days, the front door disappears. She always arrives early, with extra food.

A presence lurked behind me. I slowly became frightened. A figure at the edge of my vision shrieked. I can admit it now, I screamed, too. Jessica burst into wild laughter; this girl who rarely smiled in life.
"You want me dead, too! Is that it?"
"Oh, calm down. Where's Ben?"
"Why? You looking for a Job? I've gotta tell you! You're going to have a hard time pleasing anybody these days!" 

Maliel had spent centuries crafting the world with a cartographer's hunger. 
He poured gold beneath one nation's soil, cool rivers through its valleys, clear skies above its honeyed fields. This one, he thought, humming as he worked. Mine. The others he salted with drought and debt.

God's voice came soft: "Go." Maliel landed in cracked red dirt, barren beneath a merciless sun. He recognized the foul air, the poisoned wells… and wept.

The flirtations crescendoed at the final summer party in the city.  Laughter and alcohol led to my first ride on his motorcycle. After he handed me his only helmet he fastened a quilted navy hood under his chin. "To fool the cops".
  Morning brought hangovers and a blistering sun. "Take you home? I'll be outside". From the stoop I could see he wore the helmet and the hood was left for me.
  Oof.
 

Two angels were stuck at JFK just before the Fourth of July.
 “Indeed, all are created equal,” said the first. “Have Americans made much progress in the last 250 years?”
 “The Bill of Rights… Emancipation… abolition of slavery… voting rights regardless of race… school desegregation…” replied the second.
 “And women?”
 “They gained the right to vote.”
 “Only one step in 250 years?”
 “Yes — but in high heels. Our pilot today is a woman.”

I talked to a woman while waiting.  She spoke of the creative items she made and of her many reponsibilities she has to help her family.  I was impressed.  I realized that she did not give herself quality time.  I complimented her on her creativity.  I suggested that she spend 15 minutes each day for self care.  I said this may not be easy, but the benefits will be worthwhile.