All About Mentoring Spring 2011 - SUNY Empire State College

40
absurdity. He thought of what he should
have said in rebuttal to the aggressive little
man. Daniel would assert his own diatribe.
“Surely, America can overcome this latest
crisis” He crossed the street, heedless of
any traffic. “Look what monstrous things
it has overcome since its birth. Take its
birth. Was there ever a miracle How
could it have happened A few colonialists
overcoming the greatest nation on earth,
possessing the greatest Navy and Army
It was inconceivable to everyone. The
early defeats, again and again. The rag tag
army. The desertions But what happened
Something absolutely extraordinary. So how
can this neighbor of mine think the country
can’t overcome this mere blip Driving the
English out of our land Writing a worldfamous
Constitution, to say nothing of
overcoming a horrendous Civil War Good
God, think of that for a moment. Talk
about hard times. Endless fighting, and then
the assassination of the president, the only
man in the world who could have held our
country together. On and on it went until
we were the greatest nation on earth. Let’s
talk about the Second World War … ”
At this point, Daniel reached his house. He
wondered if his own outburst had at least
brought him a little stability. Also, standing
there, he wondered suddenly – in a real
turnabout of his attention – if the house
itself seemed … poetic. Yes, poetic. Or that
he made it so, his modest bungalow house,
the house of a mere worker. Unable to resist,
Daniel walked up the driveway alongside
the house slowly, touring what he for the
moment actually thought of in fancy as his
domain. He reached the end of the side of
the house, where by chance a past owner
had left a basketball hoop fixed to the top
of the old worn-out garage, where another
had scraped a car against a door of the
garage. He found himself looking again at
the little garden and lawn directly behind the
house, and then to an open space beyond
them, bordered by scraggly trees. Next,
he stared off at the wooded space beyond
this clear area, that at first was sparsely
occupied by trees and gradually became
thicker and thicker until it was a wood, a
darkening, almost secret, almost forbidding
place. Strangely, all that he saw, even the
dark place, filled Daniel with a sense of
sweet familiarity, with a redeeming sense of
ownership. Sighing with possession, he went
inside the house.
Putting his briefcase down, which was
filled with forms and manuals and letters,
Daniel took off his coat and looked to see
if any mail had been delivered. It was his
habit. There was none. But on the telephone
answering machine, he could see he had two
messages. Hopeful, apprehensive, Daniel
clicked on the first message. It was from his
friend and colleague Anthony.
“‘Daniel, sorry I missed you at the office’,”
Anthony informed him. “‘The impossible
task you set me took a bit of time. Believe
it or not – I was able to get your little, old
handicapped lady moved up. Our people
will be calling her in the morning. The
workers’ comp. helped.’”
Smiling, his heart starting to beat faster,
Daniel clicked on the second message. It was
from his Emily. It simply said: “‘Call me.’”
Now, at the advent of some kind of
epiphany, Daniel tapped Emily’s number
into his cell phone. Almost immediately, she
answered him.
“ … Is everything okay” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“ … Well, then”
“I just wanted to talk to you.” There was
kindness in her voice. It was his own Emily!
“I had to tell you I felt so bad about our
conversation before. I’m not sure why I was
so edgy.” Then, a long pause. “Now, I just
want to say that … that I love you, Daniel.
I … I really do. I wouldn’t change anything.
You believe me”
“ … Yes … I do,” he managed.
“Good. I love us.”
“ … So … do I.”
She sighed in relief. “Then let me put the
kids on. They want to say hello to their
father.”
When the call was over, Daniel tried to
watch television, but nothing interested him,
and besides, he was too excited to watch
television. Instead he took to writing a little
poetry one last time for the day. The first
haiku came almost as easily as the others.
He would acknowledge the dark side of life.
After all it was a part of everything.
Far behind our house,
A hollow I can’t forget.
Dark, still, secret place.
The second haiku was more difficult. But in
time it came, too. Daniel thought it turned
out to be his best one of the day.
Man at dusk alone,
Raking leaves of fall, do you
Dream upon the moon
suny empire state college • all about mentoring • issue 39 • spring 2011