The Zone

Dear J-

When I was in Alabama a few months ago, after work one day I went on a little drive — actually, I followed the GPS to where it indicated green spaces every night that I could, one of those days ditching the rest of my team so I could drive up into the mountains (these were the southern foothills of the Appalachians). I can’t explain why even now — I’d made those plans earlier the night before and then to hear that the rest of the guys wanted to go out for steaks again made me scramble for a good-enough excuse to duck out. Part of it was curiosity about East Coast mountains: how big and could I feel how much cooler it was?*

Being such a horrible recluse is partly grounded in fear of rejection, I know: if you never go out, you never have to deal with the social niceties of small talk, pleeztameetcha and howayadoin, goodthanks andyew? One of my wise J- friends told me about how painfully shy he was in Mexico; upon moving to the States he decided that the worst that would happen would be someone saying no. He’s a manager now and on the fast track upwards. It’s not just taking risks, it’s pushing the boundaries every day toward where you want to be, not staying comfortable where you are.

The small scale of our Saturdays — the last couple of weeks we’ve fallen into a routine, a leittle light cleaning and then the library, onwards to Target — is a comfortable cycle. Growing isn’t about comfort, though; I’m glad that figgy has friends inviting her to parties outside of school, though when she’s fifteen I’m sure it will be a different story. Right now she’s focused on other people and what we should do together: it’s paying off, as one lady at the library stopped me and declared that I should “Give her anything she wants, she’s adorable.” Life is full of lessons you don’t expect.

Mike

Mike

* How big? Not very, but then again they were just foothills.
How cool? Not at all. Let’s just say that compared to the Rockies, there were no instances of the clouds kissing the ground.

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