In which the author expounds upon life over the age of 25.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Leaning out my window, calling to my dog, who is sitting with T and his best friend on the front stoop, waiting for the bus. It's 11:35 pm. I am laughing at the dog, who hears my voice but cannot figure out that it is coming from three floors above him. Then, the honking starts. And I hear cheers from the people in the apartment across the street. It's clear as day: "Woo-hoo!!!" More honking. Up the street, I hear more cheers from other windows, different voices. "Yeah!!!" "World Series, baby!" A honk that lasts at least five blocks, coming from the west, passing our intersection and fading eastward. Then, fireworks. A dull, echoing boom from down south, where the stadium lies just a couple miles past our place. And as I type this, the honking and cheering makes its way past my closed window, where it rises up into the darkness. The moon is big and clear tonight. And we're going to the World Series.