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All in Life
"You're just too nice," she said it like a revelation, but it was a phrase I've been hearing since the first grade. Usually right before or after, "Speak up. I can't hear you."
I wonder when "nice" because a derogatory term. When it got grouped in with words like pushover and passive and spineless. When did we start treating any sign of softness as a fault needing to be cured?
The other day, a friend asked me if I set goals for my blog. And my answer was something along the lines of no, maybe later. Maybe when I'm done with grad school and have time to think about it. Maybe in the summer or next year or when I unexpectedly come into a large amount of money and endless free time. So thanks, but I'm pretty happy to writing only on those extremely rare occasions when I feel inspired.
“How are you doing today?” I ask, squatting on the ground next to her chair.
I wait for the response.
Ten seconds, twenty, thirty.
A thirty second processing delay may not seem like very long, but as an unanswered question hangs somewhere between my cheerful smile and her furrowed brow it feels like a small eternity..
We were sitting around the embers of our campfire, looking up at the stars, and one of my campers put into words what I had been thinking all week;
“I wish I could live like this all the time.”
