She's 6 foot even and I'm five-three short. I have dark straight hair she has lighter nappy hair. Freckles are sprinkled across her cheekbones while I have 2 moles, one on my right thigh and one on my right shoulder. I'm two years her senior age-wise and one year her senior academics-wise. What in God's name could we possibly have in common?
Sports and words. Do we play and write differently? Oh hell yeah. There are lightyears of difference. But over that span is a definete untouchable bond because more often than not we compliment each other. In sports she's the all-or-nothing player, who when she's on her game can spike the volleyball down the opposing team's gullet without even a chance at retaliation, or who can make that ball take off with flames licking its laces as it clears the fence with the sound of her bat still ringing in triumph. And when she's down and out, she's dangerous - a loose cannon is usually the best visual, loaded with power but unable to aim for a time. Me? I'm the one who gets that fraction of glory by setting up the ball for her massive spikes. I'm the one who can talk her down when she gets her shot at defense behind the plate because I know the spot backwards and forwards just like i know her backwards and forwards.
And words - as far as books go she's an addict for the classics: Wuthering Heights, Pride & Prejudice, Of Mice and Men...she simply can't get enough of the oldies but goodies. And it shows - she can be cuttingly brilliant and she's a thrilling conversationalist because she's a bit smarter than me and keeps me on my toes. I feel refreshed after sparring with her, because we both can naturally use multisyllabic and sometimes Olde English words without having to pause and explain the definition...it's a thrilling treat, it really is. And therefore, she can tend toward a more dramatic flair for expression, even describing writing once a "eulogy for her thesis" which I cackled about for God knows what reason, but it's with true hannah flair. I tend to be more optimistic and concise than her, but the difference makes the sparring all the better. how boring to try and argue with someone you always agreed with.
Last night was a rare sleepover at her house in which I managed to win ten dollars. How? She thought she knew "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" but oh my was she mistaken. She didn't believe me when I described the scene involving reference to a coin toss with sexual innuendo so now my wallet is ten ones fatter (she's a waitress). Competitive as she is, she wasn't thrilled, but mature woman she is, she got over and set up a bonfire with which to light our sparklers. Next to the flames, with last night's storm rising and coming in with great bravado, we asked each other questions about our lives and where we want to be and what we think will make us failures or successes.
Hannah let the fire burn to coals and sputter out with the first raindrops and went and laid in the grass. Lying down next to her, we laid on the grass for the better part of an hour as the rain came down. There was the first gentle sensation of the small initial drops, then the beginning of the onslaught dumped on us, followed by cold chills. With our eyes closed against the weather we could vividly see bright bursts of white through our eyelids whenever lightning would rend the sky. I felt like I wanted to brace for the next drop, to protect myself, but they were too many and they were coming too fast and I couldn't predict them, and why is my body tensed up if it's not hurting me? From there, we talked about the why behind self-preservation instinct all the way down to her concept of the "eulogy for her thesis" and just laid there. At one point we saw a firefly booking it across the lawn, flashing brightly in alarm, and right about the wooden fence the flashing disappeared and we can only assume is met a head-on collision that left its light a glowing smear on the grains of the wood. And then we talked about vanity and its emptiness. Pretty much everything, even of the two people who can get my blood from 98.6 to 107.12 in a millisecond of mentioning, in which we went inside and I got a warm bath and read Foxtrot comics.
When we retreated to the coolness of the basement for the night, I mentioned sleepily something about polishing off the M&Ms with a cold glass of milk but not having the energy to accomplish it just then. Ten minutes later i heard a crinkling of plastic and looking over the edge of the couch to see the bag and a mug of milk waiting for my pleasure.
Hence the definete bond.
Sports and words. Do we play and write differently? Oh hell yeah. There are lightyears of difference. But over that span is a definete untouchable bond because more often than not we compliment each other. In sports she's the all-or-nothing player, who when she's on her game can spike the volleyball down the opposing team's gullet without even a chance at retaliation, or who can make that ball take off with flames licking its laces as it clears the fence with the sound of her bat still ringing in triumph. And when she's down and out, she's dangerous - a loose cannon is usually the best visual, loaded with power but unable to aim for a time. Me? I'm the one who gets that fraction of glory by setting up the ball for her massive spikes. I'm the one who can talk her down when she gets her shot at defense behind the plate because I know the spot backwards and forwards just like i know her backwards and forwards.
And words - as far as books go she's an addict for the classics: Wuthering Heights, Pride & Prejudice, Of Mice and Men...she simply can't get enough of the oldies but goodies. And it shows - she can be cuttingly brilliant and she's a thrilling conversationalist because she's a bit smarter than me and keeps me on my toes. I feel refreshed after sparring with her, because we both can naturally use multisyllabic and sometimes Olde English words without having to pause and explain the definition...it's a thrilling treat, it really is. And therefore, she can tend toward a more dramatic flair for expression, even describing writing once a "eulogy for her thesis" which I cackled about for God knows what reason, but it's with true hannah flair. I tend to be more optimistic and concise than her, but the difference makes the sparring all the better. how boring to try and argue with someone you always agreed with.
Last night was a rare sleepover at her house in which I managed to win ten dollars. How? She thought she knew "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" but oh my was she mistaken. She didn't believe me when I described the scene involving reference to a coin toss with sexual innuendo so now my wallet is ten ones fatter (she's a waitress). Competitive as she is, she wasn't thrilled, but mature woman she is, she got over and set up a bonfire with which to light our sparklers. Next to the flames, with last night's storm rising and coming in with great bravado, we asked each other questions about our lives and where we want to be and what we think will make us failures or successes.
Hannah let the fire burn to coals and sputter out with the first raindrops and went and laid in the grass. Lying down next to her, we laid on the grass for the better part of an hour as the rain came down. There was the first gentle sensation of the small initial drops, then the beginning of the onslaught dumped on us, followed by cold chills. With our eyes closed against the weather we could vividly see bright bursts of white through our eyelids whenever lightning would rend the sky. I felt like I wanted to brace for the next drop, to protect myself, but they were too many and they were coming too fast and I couldn't predict them, and why is my body tensed up if it's not hurting me? From there, we talked about the why behind self-preservation instinct all the way down to her concept of the "eulogy for her thesis" and just laid there. At one point we saw a firefly booking it across the lawn, flashing brightly in alarm, and right about the wooden fence the flashing disappeared and we can only assume is met a head-on collision that left its light a glowing smear on the grains of the wood. And then we talked about vanity and its emptiness. Pretty much everything, even of the two people who can get my blood from 98.6 to 107.12 in a millisecond of mentioning, in which we went inside and I got a warm bath and read Foxtrot comics.
When we retreated to the coolness of the basement for the night, I mentioned sleepily something about polishing off the M&Ms with a cold glass of milk but not having the energy to accomplish it just then. Ten minutes later i heard a crinkling of plastic and looking over the edge of the couch to see the bag and a mug of milk waiting for my pleasure.
Hence the definete bond.
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