Switched At Birth

Familiarity

There I was, standing in the toothpaste and mouthwash aisle of Walgreens, picking up packages of Crest tooth whitening "systems" and wondering idly (since I had no intention of buying any of them) whether Whitestrips Advanced Seal Technology is better than Whitestrips Pro Effects is better than Whitestrips Premium is better than Whitestrips Classic and whether any of them are worth the $30 to $45 pricetag, when I felt a hand cup my bottom in a most familiar way.

"Hello, there," I said, not even looking up from my fascinating label reading.

Buck had seen my car in the parking lot as he was returning from a visit to the audiologist to tune up his black secret agent-looking digital behind-the-ear hearing aids.

"Let's go home," he said, smiling in that dirt road sport kind of way that always gets me.

Whatever familiarity may breed in some quarters, around here it sure ain't contempt.

Pay Phones

There was a time when the door behind me slammed shut. Actually, that's not true. I closed it myself and stepped into my future. The year was 1977. He (that first he) told tender ears, "If you absolutely must have children, go do it with someone else."

I fell through space that day, past planets and heart-shaped moons. The star-cross phalus and fallopians missed one another entirely in my lifetime.

I see now, that was no matter. When I found you that September day and recognized in your serious voice the one who would father my dreams, with no further thought, I dehydrated myself temporarily like one of those sponges seen on late night tv and became the portable woman in your pocket.

We communed at the altar of pay telephones from separate cities: me outside a seven-eleven convenience store; you outside a beat-up gas station/beer joint. Those calls were our lifeline as we conjured our future, as we took the grand tour in destiny's Yellow Cab.

We hung on, tethered, through long months of intrigue and the crashing sounds of lives changing tracks, like trains in a Chicago rail yard.

I know only that I cinched my seat belt tightly and never looked back, in this rocketship, this dream come literally true, my love, this dream, this life, this you.