At the cusp of 2012.
New office. New life. An inch longer lease of life. The air is musky. The humidity is perfect, if it ever can be. His voice is husky. And the hair, as always, perfect. As ever it can be.
His nose crinkled to the northwest. He doesn’t approve the weather.
Little things you pick up like the way a little kid starts making faces she knows her dad likes to do when he’s trying to make her laugh. Other little things…. Well, other little things you decide to drop as fast as a little kid losing interest on that little plastic spoon that apparently does not make the loudest noise of all.
The little things you drop along the journey of a relationship make a crumb trail that would one day make or break you. Fight number one over the destination of a weekend trip? Drop that crumb right there and then. She gave up her cooking class to listen to you complaining about your boss? Drop that crumb too just in case she found it and use against you at a later date. You did nothing but gazed at each other eyes for two hours straight? Drop that crumb like a hot cup of coffee asking for a litigation case and get your eyes checked.
On a bad day you may feel like it’s time to hike back and follow the only way out you know how, picking each crumbs you dropped, convincing yourself that it is the right, no, the best thing to do. For the both of you. How often does that sentence get mustered each year, month, day?
On an ambivalent day you may collect five crumbs and decided that they do not taste as foul as you previously thought in the heat of the moment. Perhaps you’ll even think about using those very stale crumbs to cook up a hearty soup the way we try to do a Jamie Oliver on new recipes using stale ingredients from our cupboard in attempt trying to save them from degradation. Only this time it’s not waste we fear but the crumbling sound of our handmade and heart filled hopes and dreams.
Everybody drops crumbs.
Everybody needs a safety net, a parachute, the golden package and a second house up in the mountain for riding out the revolution.
Everybody needs an exit strategy.
But let me tell you about a girl who ate all her crumbs, burnt her bridge and never look back.
Only I can’t even if I wanted to.
She burnt her bridge.
And never looked back.