Today I walked out of 'Foundations in Business' right into a girl... sobbing. I'm not even kidding. It was like a car crash on the quad, me looking down, blinking into the winter-sun. I grabbed a hold of her, trying to keep us both steady on our feet, and it was a long time until I figured out that her tears weren't from the collision but something else.

"Hey, darlin'," I said, hand still on her hip. "What's the trouble?"

Turns out, all the effort and research she spent on her thesis was for naught... completely dismissed by the department even after they'd signed off on the project. I can't believe - in this day and age - things like this still happen. So I took her to Murphy's. We had green beer (unofficial St. Patty's Day, RAH!) and grilled chicken and I tried my best to soothe her doubts. It's amazing to me, how callous this circuit can be.

I'll be cheesy for a second and tell you all that I reminded her today's a free-day. Anything that happens today can so obviously be undone. It's not the truth, but at least it made her laugh.

Here's to free days, to green-beer, to being alive and still with it... to enjoying life, despite the downfalls. Cheers.

Last night, right about my fourth mile, I run by this seedy little gas station on the corner of Nofuck and Where. There's two little boys standing outside, the tawny blonde one counting silver, while the other, the slightly shorter, hair moppish brown, bounces on the balls of his feet. There's restlessness on the face of the oldest, a deep-set anxiety I recognize, shooting a quick and sorrowful glance at the littler one.

I’m still jogging at this point, something hard and heavy thudding in my ears as I pass, but the scene… it’s like… surreal. So I turn around, smiling, walk casually towards them, the clearly older one stepping forward. Unapproachable. Protective.

“Hey, what are you trying to get?”

“Nothing.” He’s guarded, caged. Like twelve fucking years old, and he’s already constructed a goddamned wall.

I reach into my pocket, pull out my credit card, flip it around between my fingers so it’s magic. “Tell ya what. You tell me what you wanted to get,” and I tilt my head towards the miserable fraction of space trying to call itself a store, “and I’ll go in there and buy it.”

“Naw,” he drawls. “Just… well, my little brother wanted candy.” The way he opens up, little by little, his body relaxing; I’m compelled to just stand there and see how much I can get. Find out why he’s wearing jean shorts that are obviously too small, his brother in a t-shirt three sizes too big. They’re dirty… filthy! Sneakers so worn they’re barely holding their feet.

So I look at his brother, still shy behind the older’s back. “If it was me, I’d go for a Twix. What’d ya want?” I smile slow. Try not to spook the poor thing.

“Snickers!” And he beams… smile full of holes where teeth should be. I just pray he’s not losing them for any other reason than he should be.

“Snickers it is. And for you?”

The paler one scuffs his sneaker over the tar, gives a little shrug, too damn cute for his own good. In all the ways he doesn’t yet know. “I just wanted to get my-”

Yeah, yeah, I know, kid. Selfless, sacrificing. “I’m getting Snickers for you too, unless you come out with it.”

“That’s fine.”

I laugh, roll my eyes towards the picture perfect sky. Don’t placate me kid… just tell me what you want. Maybe in time it’ll come. But I’ve got a ten mile run to finish and it’s getting late and my husband’s counting on me to be in time for Lost. So I head inside, buy them six candy bars, drop the bag in the oldest one’s hands on my way out the door.

“Remember to brush your teeth,” I wink, situating my headphones.

I don’t stay around for thanks. Who the fuck wants it. I have the oldest ones attitude.

I can’t help but wonder how much he’ll grow up like me. I’m already halfway down the block, running past the belching smokestack of an ancient power plant, wondering if I’ll be able to sketch his growth with any certainty… the man he’ll become. The men they’ll both eventually be.

Something new comes on and there are miles ahead. The parking lot’s empty on my way home.