There is an elephant in the room. An elephant and an okapi and a jaguar. They are dancing the can-can. They are in jade toned suits and speak of how lovely Cuba is this time of year. They are loud and jovial and they don’t even look in our direction. I know if I looked that great in a jade toned suit, I wouldn’t pay attention to me either.
You and I are in the corner, playing with Legos. We talk about everything –our friends, our families, how long it’s been since we last played with blocks, how nice it is not to have a watch. We talk about how reading on the Subway is easier than reading in bed. We talk about why we still drink Capri-Sun pacific cooler juice pouches on days when the sun shines especially bright. And how we ripped our pants climbing rocks.
We talk about everything except the fact that okapis are one of my favorite animals, so much so I did a research project on them in sixth grade. I don’t tell you I find them particularly graceful, even though mostly anyone can see that. And I don’t tell you I cried when I found out elephants have the ability to cry. I don’t tell you jaguars mean nothing to me. You don’t say anything about them either. Though I do see you glance over to them, your eyes narrowing with jealously. I know, I know, those jade suits are prepossessing.