Category Archives: Future Aspirations

he said, folding his arms across his chest and nodding his head in affirmation a couple of times.

His eyes were unyielding and he quirked his brow, as though to challenge me.

“Like a butterfly? Know me that well?” I responded.

“Yes. Analyzed you years ago. You, ma’am, are aiming for the American dream. I can see it all now,” he said with confidence, his tone matter-of-fact. For effect, his left hand swiped across the open air, as though creating a cinematic screen in the distance to play scenes of my life to come, motioning me to stop and take a look.

“You, married to your long-term boyfriend. Working your asses off to scrimp and save to move out to somewhere still in civilization, but a bit more spacious. Then, you each get a decent car – you don’t strike me as a luxury car owner. You put a down payment on a decent-sized house – see it? Three bedrooms, a drive-in garage, a fenced in backyard. You get a dog. Have some kids, maybe two or three. You bake cookies and stuff. Continue working at something that doesn’t pay a lot, but makes you happy.You enjoy it and your life without needing too much, wanting too much.”

He finally stops talking and laughs heartily at my stricken expression. I say nothing. I can’t and won’t contradict him, but something tugs at a corner of my brain. Yes, I envision myself with that kind of future, but a hope for a bit more pulls at me, like a crying child at my feet, reaching for my knees with desperate, chubby fingers.

I clear my throat, “Look – that squirrel’s pretty fattened up for winter.” He looks and nods.

Another squirrel joins the first. They chase each other and the newcomer hops up  the roof of a wooden booth we’re standing by. The other follows, but stops on a dangling electric line as he nears us.

My colleague turns his attention to the squirrel, who sits, his tail twitching and his body stiff with fear. The other squirrel climbs slowly up an adjacent tree trunk, watching and waiting.

“Go get your girlfriend, stupid. I’m not going to eat you. I just had lunch. C’mon – go get some,” the gruff, middle-aged man urges, motioning with his hands again.

“You’re talking to a squirrel, not directing traffic,” I point out.

He stops immediately.

“I’m never getting married again,” he announces, scratching his beard, “See this? Getting gray and not a concern about it. I can do without an endless stream of judgmental, female commentary.”

“Bitter much?” I ask rhetorically, staring over his shoulder as a few cars pass.

“Some people,”  he rolls his eyes toward me, “find something real and cling to it. I’m glad my wife and I divorced. I definitely don’t need that drama in my age. No, I’m going to set up my retirement home in the Dominican Republic and wilt away in the sun. Happily. Like a raisin.”

“To each their own,” I mock toast him with my empty water bottle. I am no one to view his wishes and dreams as less worthy or meaningful than mine, or anyone else’s. The wind bites into my face. My lips are dry. It’s time to get indoors and raid the water cooler.

“To each their own,” he repeats with a snort and a short salute.

I walk away without another word, down a different path.