within arm’s reach
A long time ago I spent a lot of time studying a foreign language. I was excited about the prospect of going to another country and talking to the people there. Meanwhile, I was ignoring all of the people that I lived near. I was angry that they were there more often than not. I had fantasies of empty streets. I started sleeping during most of the day so that I could go out at night and be alone all the time. I turned off the ringer on my phone. I put dark curtains over my windows and didn’t leave my apartment for days at a time. I forgot people’s names and I removed the battery from my wristwatch. I bought a camera and took pictures of empty landscapes. One day, while I was studying verb forms, I realized that if I ever moved to France I would want to set up the same situation there. I’d buy dark curtains and go to the grocery store at odd hours. I’d wear oversize headphones in public so I wouldn’t have to hear their yammering voices. I wondered who I had become. I unearthed a calender and traced the months I had spent burrowing deeper into myself. When I opened the door to my back deck cold air hit my face and it was the middle of the night. I could see the stars configured in their old patterns. I remembered being twenty, out one night with two girls from college. We had coats on, laying in a field in the country to stargaze. The girl I liked best was within arm’s reach, I could hear the rustle of her coat as she moved her hand closer.
