I realized today as I looked around my classroom that contained at least 25 students and 1 Professor that I really did not like/get along with over half of them. I realized this when My Professor decided I should sit with the rest of the class instead of lingering in the front with a friend in computer chairs our energy drinks resting next to the computers, celllphones and make up discarded, and our feet tucked under neath us and making small talk while the students sat at desks in neat rows copying notes quiet as church mice. My friend decided to skip first. I realized that soon my friends would all leave considering they are all much older than I and I would be left with an abundance of acquaintances. I attempted to make small talk but failed miserably I ended up making clever remarks and chatting with the Professor. I settled for moving back to my chair again after the movie he had put in was done. I looked back at the class attempting to see who I had a connection with. 1, 2, 3….4. Four students out twenty-five.
Maybe I am stuck up.
Maybe I am a little too proud.
Maybe I need more friends.
Maybe I’m happy with just Me and my select Six.
I don’t need to act like I’m concerned with what my class thinks. I’m not at all concerned with their opinions. They won’t get me into College, or mission camp, into heaven.
I could be nicer. I could change who my experiences have made me but why change something when it isn’t broke?
Andy was talking to herself again. Watching the orange leaves fall silently to the ground, creating a soundtrack to accompany the silence in her mind. Her thoughts were simple and she spoke them to the air as if it were a grade school class.
“The sky is rather dark today.” She spoke aloud and as if the air did not want to hear the latter part of her thought she retreated inside her mind, “I wonder what Asher is doing right now.”
She repeated this process for a fleeting moments.
“That grass over there, She pointed to a patch of in the distance, needs to be mowed.” And once again she finished the random thought, “Asher would not be happy to see the Garden is being neglected.”
“I’m not feeling happy today, and in a lapse of judgement she let her minuscule world listen to her thoughts, If Asher were here…” She allowed herself to trail off in embarrassment. She had forgotten to silence herself. The leaves scratched together in a crackling noise and Andy knew the Garden even as protective as it could seem was laughing at her. The Garden knew her secrets. She didn’t need to spell them out, it knew when Asher would leave.
The apple tree was blossoming beautifully the last night Asher and Andy stayed in the Garden. The grass was dewy and freshly mowed a sight and smell Asher favored above many things the Garden had to offer. The sky was cloudless and seemed to have set extra stars in the sky, begging him to stay just a little bit longer. The Garden tried and Andy tried. But it wouldn’t be enough. The night’s music seemed to stutter as he kissed Andy on the cheek and smiled widely around the Garden. The rusty gate swung open with a single push from his giant brown hands. His face set in Andy’s favorite smile, He turned and shut the gate securely. He stood there. His hands resting in his loose blue jeans and the hood of his jacket resting halfway on his head. And just as quickly as he had arrived Asher turned and walked away. Andy waited for him to turn around, to start laughing and run back to the Garden, to pick her the prettiest flower from the tree and tell her stories of Greek gods and pirates at war. But he didn’t. Her eyes followed him as far as the darkness would allow and listened steadily as he cranked his car and pulled away. Andy sunk quietly to the ground and sprawled out in snow angle posture. She didn’t cry. That was Asher’s job. He was the sensitive one. She was the realist. She merely lay there. Not quiet and not loud. She soaked it in. The night, the kiss, the moment and the Garden.