strawberry square

downtown harrisburg was always one of my favorite places. something about tall buildings and watching the people cross the streets, where the homeless meet the businessman on a daily basis. clean and dirty at the same time. it was always busy, giving me something to focus on, never blinking in case of missing a part of the action.

tuesdays were strawberry square nights located in the midst of that hustle and bussell. my sister, aspiring actress, would go to participate in the popcorn hat players, a children's theater group. she never got big parts, but she ended up in the local paper, i think for charisma. she never lacked ambition.

while sarah would practice and expand her imagination, i would do homework in the empty food court. i would order the same thing from the chinese restaruant -- brown gravy and rice -- and get our parking ticket validated. it happened each tuesday like clockwork. then i would eat and stretch the part of my brain that never worked quite right. grasping numbers was always a lot harder than i thought it should be. with something that had such a definite answer -- right or wrong -- i could never quite get it.

my mom would tutor me as we watched the big clock in the middle of the mini-mall creep (too) slowly towards 8 o'clock. it was just us and the janitors, and i liked how it was still and it was just us in an empty building. sometimes we would walk around and peer into the windows. we kick ourselves now for not buying that Jagr autographed hockey stick, only $95, in that sports store. i'd lick my lips when we would pass the stand with the chocolates. i never liked chocolate as much as when i couldn't have it.

there was one store in particular i remember, it was the doll store located right next to where my sister was acting out one of the 7 dwarves or Jasmine from Aladdin. we rode the escalator up, its steps shining an eerie green glow, to this store. looking at the eyes, glazed over and so life-like it was like my mission to free them from behind the glass. i could almost seem them reach out and touch me through the window.

"we are not to be showcased. we are more than dolls."

i would dream of rescuing them and holding them in my arms like lost puppies. during the daylight, the dolls looked like just pieces of porcelain with fake golden curls and fancy costumes. it was at night, that they seemed alive. it was at night when everything was quiet that everything was more lively. like the stars made people more awake, more interesting. i guess that's why you always make out with the ugly person at the bar. everything is more interesting at night and when you're inebriated.

i was drunk off dreams to come. i still am. 
¶ 10:14 AM |