It was 2 days after Independence Day, when Trish and she had sat at the café, watching the parade between sips of coffee, daydreams, and girl talk. Multitasking is women’s blessing and curse, she decided. The more she thought about it, the more she believed that the ability which gives women freedom to take in the world around them and carry on with their thoughts and conversations is the same one that makes them slaves at work. How funny it was, then, that she and Trish were free to meet up, because it was a day commemorating liberty. It was funnier still that she unwittingly chose that day to break it off with Richard. After all, his wife had finally gotten pregnant.
There is something very strange about third days. For instance, Jesus rose from the dead on the third day. Okay, don’t go overboard, she told herself. Still, second days are always those on which you relive moments from the previous day with sudden anger, disbelief, excitement, hope, regret, or, yes, shame. But third days were designed for acceptance, unconcern, and finality.
She recalls how she had presented Trish with her analogy between parades and relationships. If it were her other friends, they would have pretended to listen but secretly scoff at her “incessant attempts at masquerading her foolishness with intellect.” Yes, that’s what they would say of her, she thought grimly. But since it had been Trish, whose job as policy analyst required inference and whose secret career as writer meant a love for metaphors, she was listened to with gusto. In fact, Trish couldn’t help contributing insights to the analogy.
A parade, by definition, is a series of people going in the same direction, appearing one after the other. Parades are often loud and extravagant… and quite festive while they last, although they leave nothing but empty, littered streets in the end. And how people react to parades! Those who regard themselves quite important wish for the parade to end abruptly, as it is a nuisance and steals attention away from them. And then, there are those who DO want to watch parades. They are careful to observe every flawed step, about which they would tell others how it should have been done. Yet, there are those who genuinely love parades. The sad thing about this is that once the parade is over, they would scurry about, carrying on with their lives, remembering to pay the bills and go to the gym. Because even if they could stand enraptured on the sidelines for all they’re worth, they are just watchers still. And it would be the clowns left with red noses and streaked makeup to wash off on their own. But then, in parades, one can always wait for the next float or performance to show up and see if it is as good as the last.
And no matter how predictable, parades are something one who hasn’t been embittered can look forward to. And so we wait. Year after year after year.
“Parades and relationships, it seems, are two of the things people spend their lifetime waiting for,” Trish had finished for her.
She resigned herself to wait. Only this time, she knows who she wants. He is wise beyond his years and brave—or at least crazy enough to be with her. She admitted to it and was satisfied with her decision. Even if she has no idea where he might be. Or if he does exist. And so with great conviction, she was able to rise again. On the third day.
There is something very strange about third days. For instance, Jesus rose from the dead on the third day. Okay, don’t go overboard, she told herself. Still, second days are always those on which you relive moments from the previous day with sudden anger, disbelief, excitement, hope, regret, or, yes, shame. But third days were designed for acceptance, unconcern, and finality.
She recalls how she had presented Trish with her analogy between parades and relationships. If it were her other friends, they would have pretended to listen but secretly scoff at her “incessant attempts at masquerading her foolishness with intellect.” Yes, that’s what they would say of her, she thought grimly. But since it had been Trish, whose job as policy analyst required inference and whose secret career as writer meant a love for metaphors, she was listened to with gusto. In fact, Trish couldn’t help contributing insights to the analogy.
A parade, by definition, is a series of people going in the same direction, appearing one after the other. Parades are often loud and extravagant… and quite festive while they last, although they leave nothing but empty, littered streets in the end. And how people react to parades! Those who regard themselves quite important wish for the parade to end abruptly, as it is a nuisance and steals attention away from them. And then, there are those who DO want to watch parades. They are careful to observe every flawed step, about which they would tell others how it should have been done. Yet, there are those who genuinely love parades. The sad thing about this is that once the parade is over, they would scurry about, carrying on with their lives, remembering to pay the bills and go to the gym. Because even if they could stand enraptured on the sidelines for all they’re worth, they are just watchers still. And it would be the clowns left with red noses and streaked makeup to wash off on their own. But then, in parades, one can always wait for the next float or performance to show up and see if it is as good as the last.
And no matter how predictable, parades are something one who hasn’t been embittered can look forward to. And so we wait. Year after year after year.
“Parades and relationships, it seems, are two of the things people spend their lifetime waiting for,” Trish had finished for her.
She resigned herself to wait. Only this time, she knows who she wants. He is wise beyond his years and brave—or at least crazy enough to be with her. She admitted to it and was satisfied with her decision. Even if she has no idea where he might be. Or if he does exist. And so with great conviction, she was able to rise again. On the third day.
