Thursday October 8th, 2015

The exercise:

Write about: hindsight.

The Blue Jays opened their baseball playoffs this afternoon with a 5-3 loss to Texas. Not, obviously, an ideal start to things, but hopefully they'll get things moving in the right direction in game two. Seeing as it's a best of five series, they really better.

Oh, hey, look at that - I'm completely caught up on comments on the blog. First time in... you know what? I don't want to look that up. I'm just going to celebrate being back on track and do my best to keep it that way.

Deal?

Deal.

Mine:

Dylan hated looking back. He wasn't one of those people who believed anything about learning from history or repeating mistakes or any of that junk. Back was gone, unchangeable. Forward to the future, with choices to be made and paths yet to be taken.

Turning to the past only lead to regret. Wishing that more information was available at the instant poor decisions were made. Wanting the impossible - to know the future so as to avoid it - and screaming at the injustice of its elusiveness. It was, as far as Dylan was concerned, the worst kind of futility.

And yet, there he was. Flipping through faded photo albums. Listening to songs that brought him back to moments that should have remained buried beneath hourglass sand. Visiting cafes, parks, museums, beaches that he should have forgotten ever existed.

All while the same thought kept hammering the inside of his skull. Over and over, like the endless crash of waves upon an isolated beach. Eroding, slowly but surely, the rock of his psyche.

I shouldn't have let her go.

2 Comments:

Greg said...

Colour me impressed that you've caught up with the comments again, and so quickly as well; it seems like barely two days ago that you were two weeks behind... (ducks). That said, I think you're only very rarely as far behind as you suggested in yesterday's response to comment – and that's been when you've been extra busy because of harvest, morning sickness and Max's adventures!
I like Dylan, he seems sympathetic (though on the edge of a breakdown). I really like the continuity of language you've got going on as well, from the hourglass sand to the isolated beach to the rock of his psyche. I feel like I know exactly where Dylan is stood at the moment, and that he doesn't :)

Hindsight
"How do you sex a deer, dear?" asked Betty. She and Agnes were stood in Athlete's Foot, a clothing and footwear shop for runners and sportspeople.
"You'd want to ask Mr. Hartigan that," said Agnes. She picked up a gel saddle and turned it over, poking it with strong, bony fingers. "I don't think I'd want to sit on this for any length of time, you know."
"Does he know a lot about them then?"
"He used to see them all the time, he said. Red deer, and they were always female. This fabric's a bit shiny, isn't it!"
"That's lycra, ma'am," said the shop assistant, her mouth working but no sound coming out as she tried to figure out how to suggest that it might not suit Agnes.
"Really?" Betty dropped a cycle-helmet experimentally and the assistant dived for it, catching it an inch above the floor.
"Coo, you're good," said Agnes. "Yes, it got to the point where he reckoned he could tell their age too; said they were always at least 3 years old." She dropped another cycle helmet, which the assistant athletically caught as well.
"I might go and ask him then," said Betty. They moved over to the shoes, with the assistant following cautiously.
"Well, he's doing fish at the moment."
"What!"
"No, not like that. He reckons he sees fish everywhere, some kind of grouper he said. Usually being carried around by peasants. This shoe would look good on you at the ballroom dancing, Betty. Look, it's all squishy too!"
Betty looked first at the shoe in question: a yellow-and-blue trainer with gel sole and airbags around the foot to stop you stubbing your toes; and then at Agnes. "I like the shoe," she said. "But Mr. Hartigan. Sounds like he should see a doctor."
"He did," said Agnes. "Excuse me love, but have you got any squash racquets?"
"What did the doctor say?"
"He said he'd got hindsight."

[OK, bad pun, but here you can find definitions 2 and 3 that explain it :)]

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, that sounds about right. I just needed to go with the momentum and get all the way back in a hurry or it just wasn't going to happen, it seemed.

But thank you, and thanks for the kind words on my piece :)

Ah, these two are getting up there with Dave and Vince in my books. And I do appreciate the assistant's dedication to her job, not to mention athleticism!