Life Closed Eyes

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed."
- Albert Einstein

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Mike and Selma sat in the beaten up old blue ford pick up truck, waiting for Rose to come out of the two story brick elementary school. She usually rode the big yellow school bus, but since it was her tenth birthday, and at Selma's insistence, Mike took off half a day from the factory so they could pick her up.

They arrived fifteen minutes early and after notifying the office to send Rose to the truck, headed back out to the parking lot to wait.

It was hot.

Early September wasn’t the hottest part of the year in west Texas, but sitting in a tin can on black pavement while waves of heat vibrated off the ground, rivaled any August heat wave.

The windows on the old Ford were down since the air conditioner gave up the ghost some years before. Money was tight and luxuries like air conditioning were pushed aside for necessities like ice cream cones on birthdays, and an almost new red bike for Rose.

Rose was an only child. The apple of her parents' eyes and for all intents and purposes, the glue which stuck the little family together.

Mike was an uneducated man having quit high school his junior year to party with friends. He started working at the factory when his father kicked him out of the house shortly after. It was hard dirty work, but it was a decent wage for someone whose only needs at the time consisted of food, shelter, gas for the truck, and beer money.

He met Selma at the Maverick High School homecoming football game in 1996. She was a tall girl, thin, with brown hair and green eyes that sparkled when she laughed. She was a senior honor roll student and college bound when their worlds collided.

Mike was an eye catching twenty-two, drove a decent truck, with dark hair and eyes, and a muscular body from working long hours lifting heavy molds at the factory.

Most men his age were off in college or the military. So, he was forced to find entertainment among the younger crowd.

They used him to buy beer. He used them for whatever perverse satisfaction he could garner being the older and wiser.

He figured Selma, in her naivety, saw him as some sort of bad boy. He played it for all he could get.

And he got everything.

Selma was pregnant at graduation.

They married because her family kicked her out when the pregnancy was discovered.

Selma worked as a waitress to supplement their income until Rose was born. She never went to college. Sure, she talked about it, and much to Mike's chagrin, was speaking about it more and more lately.

Probably because Rose was in middle school next year and able to stay home a bit by herself. Selma figured college was on the horizon. It was her plan.

Mike had others.

No need for the woman to go out and do something foolish like outgrow him.

His eye-catching good looks were long gone and his once flat stomach, now sported a hefty bulge. Lord knows his truck saw better days.

He sighed. “How much longer you think she’ll be?”

Selma shrugged. She wore her brown hair up in a pony tail as a tribute to the heat and a white floral dress with a deep scooped neckline that showed off both her narrow shoulders.

They sat for a few minutes in silence, sweating.

“This is an old school,” Selma said. “At least fifty years old.”

Mike grunted.

“And the trees. They look like they were planted at the same time the school was built.”

“Yup,” Mike checked his watch.

Selma eased forward enough to dislodge her sweating bare shoulders from the faux leather seat.

“Can you imagine how many children those bricks have seen? Those trees? If those bricks could talk, can you imagine the stories they’d have? They’re older than we are. They were standing here watching kids come to and from school everyday before we were even born.” She laughed. “The stories!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Do you know how tired that idea is? How many movies and stories are out there with that kinda thinkin?”

Selma nodded her head, pony tail bobbing. “Yeah, that’s true. But none of them are mine.”

“For good reason,” Mike said. “You ain’t got no schoolin girl, and your ideas are stale.” He leaned forward squinting out the dusty windshield toward the school’s front doors. “You just don’t have what it takes anymore honey. I think she’s coming. Is that her?”

Selma looked, nodded, and stuck her arm out the window! “Over here Rose!”

Mike rested his calloused hand on Selma’s small soft shoulder. “We’re gonna have another baby. Give Rose someone to look after.”

Selma looked again at the bricks, the trees, then back at her husband. The glow of vitality always in her eyes faded, she gave a slow tired nod.