Excerpt, Spring 2012

E Wilson, to the volleyball in the Tom Hanks movie Castaway named Wilson. It is nice being able to float through my thoughts, nodding to the current, instead of being jolted back by a teacher, friend, or parent. Eventually, my thoughts circle back to the reading.

An hour or so later, I flip the book closed. The reading was actually pretty interesting. It turns out Woodrow Wilson was a pretty lonely guy. In a series of letters, he even lamented his lack of friends. It occurs to me that I could have been feeling lonely like Woodrow all morning, moping about how I haven’t been hanging out with friends. But I am glad to have been alone. This morning has been a pleasure. My mind, with all its quirks and valleys, has been world enough. I slip the book back into my backpack and walk down to the kitchen again.

The kitchen is dark. My mom’s note is still on the counter. I mentally compose a note back to her. This is just to say, thank you for leaving me alone today. Also, you might want to buy more tangerine popsicles. I look up. A bright swatch of red flashes in the corner of my eye. Out the window, a cardinal lights on the birdfeeder. It moves its neck in small ticks, pecking at the small silver opening for birdseed. Get up and walk over to the window.

The cardinal continues to back, oblivious to my face just a couple feet away. Up close its feathers are mottled and textured. I catch a glimpse of its underbelly. It looks soft.

Suddenly the loud, distinctive grind of a key in the lock startles the silence. The kitchen door opens and my sister stumbles in, her arms full of belongings. “Hey, I missed you!” she exclaims when she sees me.

“I missed you too! How was your sleepover?” I reply.

“It was really fun,” she pants. Her voice is full in the hollow kitchen. I glance back at the birdfeeder. It is empty and swinging. I barely catch the cardinal disappearing around the side of the house, a bright fleck against the gray sky.

“So, what did you do while I was gone?” she asks.

“Mom and dad left, so I threw a wild party.”

“Not again.” My sister laughs. “No, really though, what did you do?”

I think back on my morning. I have reveled in trivial joys, in 59