Judgment

I find it extremely amusing that my post about my first meeting was judged as pessimistic. I'm a realist. I don't expect to have the motivational movie moment, where the string chorus is swelling and the tears are rising to the eyes of everyone watching. But I am going to do my best and anyone who suggests otherwise can shove it.

First Meeting

My first meeting with Josefina was unremarkable and slapdash. As both of us were slightly unprepared for the encounter, any resemblance and homage to structure was replaced with a more anticipatory eagerness for it to end. Our scatterbrained lesson involved the basics of computer use, though advancement through use of e-mail was impossible as she did not have her passwords with her. I myself am a frustrated mentor. Having been raised with computers, I could not begin to comprehend the slowness of her typing or the halting strokes of the mouse. Restraint, bred through years of conflict resolution, kept my hand from the mouse and my tongue in my head. I am unlike those who see this as a learning experience. I do not hope to gain a friend or student and while my best efforts will be applied, I see no greatness evolving from our second or third or tenth meeting. I only look to improve a little each time.

The Street I Grew Up On

The street was wider when I was young, but as I stand at the end now, it is only one and a half cars wide, creating tiny battles that are fought every time two cars come head to head. Twenty years ago, someone thought Bradford Oear trees would be a great idea. Today, the foundations of each house groan their complaints as they shift uncomfortably above the probing roots. The yards are small and the dogs are big, but it balances out because if you don't have a dog, a neighbor will happily oblige you and give you the full experience of pet ownership regardless of your desire to have a clean lawn devoid of fecal matter. The mailboxes are strong steel cubicles with peeling paint that reads US MAIL. The one by my house has been tapped, hit, egged and otherwise abused, but it stood tall until my neighbor's ex-wife ran over it while she was high on meth. Otherwise, it's a clean neighborhood. One of my neighbors had a peach tree planted right next to his fence. I thought he was asking for it. I used to Rollerblade through the back alley as a child and circle and reach for the glistening peaches hanging just out of arms reach. As they ripened, the branch drooped and the tantalizing fruit was mine. It was the only fruit I ate from that tree because it had a worm in it. After that, I only bothered the crabgrass.