May 14, 2000

If not attached to the whims of this little girl, would these feelings have ever found their way to me? Societies, cultures, come and go. This thing is as immortal as it is inscrutable. Aeternitas persona induta. Like some sand and sun worn trunkless sphynx in the desert, giving little clue as to its age or origin.

Okay, maybe I'm getting carried away a bit. But how can I put these feelings into perspective? My recollection of her presence is only outdone by her presence. (Does that make sense?) Do others share this level of ecstacy? If so, then why isn't the whole world smiling?

Saturday Carol and I chaperoned Mary's science class on a field expedition to Tilden Park, one of the first truly beautiful Saturdays of the spring season. Butterflies, honeybees, everything overwhelming. I awoke that morning feeling something was up. Then Mary shows up on my doorstep, being the young, crafty and incorrigible early riser that she is. She was wearing a sundress (since it was sunny) and a silver necklace (since her neck was lacy). I fed her pancakes and orange juice. (I think this was her 2nd breakfast, but Mary never says no to pancakes, I've discovered.) We were expected at Sather Gate on the U.C. campus at 9:30. By 8:35 she was rooting barefoot through my CD collection (must have them all memorized by now), coming across the one I just bought (guess she has) by "Rose Garden".

"Think we have time to play some of this?" she asked in that seductively innocent manner that's gotten her into trouble on similar occasions.

Plenty of time. Oodles of time. The campus is nearby, my heart is a river, and, Sweetheart, the probability of you getting out that door unmolested is less than zero...