As My Sparks Fly Upward
It has all come together.
Doesn't seem possible: Ireland in less than a week. A year of waiting and my Irish passport came through last month. Two weeks ago notice came from Dublin City University of an opening in the English department; interviews set to begin in two weeks. For all the waiting, planning, writing letters and mailing resumes to universities and colleges in Ireland, the idea of actually leaving home never had a chance to form in my mind. Now with all the arrangements complete the thought has not only formed, it rests heavily on me.
This is my last Saturday night in town.
Driving down University Street to meet friends at the University of Windsor's campus pub—once a large private residence, but has since been turned into the Grad House—my mind lights with memory. Passing Curry Avenue I think of Jessica Fountain, the girl I loved through elementary school. Sandy blonde hair, green eyes, freckles, hint of a lisp softening her "S's." Hardly said a word to her in those early days, though we became something close to friends in high school. Nothing came of it. Walked home from high school together once in a while, talked on the telephone. Never did ask her for a date. But I'll never forget the nights riding my bike past her house, seeing the lights in the windows, wondering which was hers. Some nights her older sister was on the porch with friends and I'd just pedal by. One evening in the autumn of sixth grade I biked past to find Jessica sitting on the porch. I was about to go by when she called my name. I slowed, coasted up the walk. We talked for a bit. Can't remember about what, but sitting there on my bike, looking at Jessica in the fading dusk, I decided that anything that felt so natural and good had to be love.