I saw us today, you and I. As they, they as we, picked over their Sunday diner dinner our mouths held more words than food. They weren’t there for the meal. That much was true. It was a mirror into the future, and I was looking back at the way we will be. You with your tip card and fancy jewels. Me with barely-there eyesight and always-there worried expression. You ordered the mashed potatoes, I inquired about the special. shaking hands held the menu. We both refused another cup of tea, waving our wrinkled fingers over the empty ones. You patted your piled high gray hair and commented on the weather while I fiddled with a button that had come undone, my fingers not grasping, not strong enough.
The funny thing about this scene is that I’ve come to realize I will always point out your perfect outfit, your next boyfriend, and the oh-so-crazy shoes whether you are there or not. I will always see us in someone else. This morning the air was chilled to the perfect Songo Pond temperature and I thought to myself, “It’s polar bear weather.” Spring always takes me to Bethel.
Finally, after the diner dinner was finished I watched as we stood up to leave. With slow measured steps old me shuffled to pay the bill, my bright purple sandals leading the way. I think I need a cane. Old you went to warm up the car, a stuffed cat propped in the rear window. Naturally, you would be driving. And you would have a cat.
As the future drove way I smiled to my here and now self. Kisa asked what I was thinking. As the question, “Do you want the train or the caboose?” perched on the tip of my tongue I thought better of it and swallowed the words. Instead, I smiled again and simply said “I just saw my future.” Kisa laughed and replied, “I know. You weren’t the one driving.” I guess he saw us, too.