Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Sometimes I find old documents
That damn light through the yonder window again. Mary stirs in her sleep as I slip out of bed and head for the kitchen. In route my eye catches a movement in the bushes outside. Nothing new. Having the Capulets for next-door neighbors presents an array of ruckus at all hours. The masquerades, the sword fights, it’s enough to make me want to post that “for sale” sign outside our house. But the location is spectacular and I couldn’t just uproot Mary and the kids like that. So we bought earplugs. Although a strange movement outside the window is not only normal but to be expected, something strikes me as particularly peculiar. I stand to the side of the window, staring intently at the quivering shrub. And then it has hair. Followed by eyes and a face. The bush is no longer a bush, but instead an adolescent emerging slowly, crouching among the trees, eyes fixed on something up high. I follow his gaze until it hits Juliet standing on her balcony. Talking to herself. Again. I tell you what, for a pretty girl, that Juliet sure has some issues. One morning on my way to the mailbox I found her outside on her front lawn soliloquizing the morning away. A shame really. But it’s no wonder, what with her parents being the way they are. Sure there’s a time and a place for a party, but letting your own children be raised by the nurse, well that’s just a loss of good old English values. And now she’s got a boy in the bushes. He can’t be more than 15. Oh no… It’s a Montague. Ramon is it? I’ve seen him around town, running around with that Mercutio, the culprit in many a shenanigan. Sure this young one seems nice enough, but the last thing that poor confused Juliet needs is a hormonal creep in the bushes from a rival family (from what I hear, it was a property dispute. The Capulets insisted on making their pool large enough to creep onto the Montagues’ lawn. But that’s just what I hear.). I don’t believe it, now his mouth is moving. Good thing these crazies can find each other, I suppose. Realizing the potential for a good party story, I crack the window open, slowly, and strain to listen. “East…Juliet…sun.” Yes, he must truly be infatuated. Only the infatuated welcome the morning light after a sleepless night. That damn light. It’s hard to hear, but it’s clear that this poor sucker has fallen hard. “That I might touch that cheek!” Suddenly Juliet is beckoning and Romeo bounds to the balcony. I reflect back on my romance as a 15 year old. That Elizabeth was really something special. And we had plenty cheek stroking of our own. It’s not something I care to witness, and step away from the window. Mary’s hair is sprawled over the pillow, a faint snore barely audible as she rotates to her side. Tobias wails from the backroom, awake and ready to be fed. I sigh and remember I need to visit the alchemist later that afternoon.
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