Estoy constantemente sorprendente subida

I was slapped in the face.  The perpetrator was a really cute, short, blonde girl I knew from childhood, from Sunday School, where hitting was not allowed.  But we weren't children anymore.  We were performers in a play.  And my costume included white shorts.  They were rather long and the set designer asked me to have them tailored.  I rolled up the legs and asked her what length.  "You can make them a little shorter," she said.  I frowned.  I'm not sure these will cover my ass, I thought, but obeyed.  "My Mom can fix them for you," the Sunday School alumni said.  "Great!  Thanks," I said and resumed folding up the legs and they became shorts.  The white blue-jean kind that people wore in the eighties or in high school.  I then handed the shorts to the girl but she just glared at me.  She denied ever saying that her mom would tailor the shorts.  "But, you just said it."  "No, I didn't.  You're weird."  "I promise I heard you."  "Stop saying I said stuff I didn't say."  And then she hit me.  Once on the arm.  And then right across my face.  I was in shock and left.

Once again I trudged uphill.  I had the feeling I was about to spit up blood and then I did.  I watched as it rolled down the hill.  And a guy I used to keep the scores of basketball games with looked up from his seat on the sidewalk, "Should you really be drinking while you're..."

"Spitting up blood?"

"Yeah." 

"I'm not drinking."

I was pretty angry at this point and wound up in the practice room of the university orchestra.  I went into the hallway and practiced my boxing moves.  I was throwing punches and I had no shirt on and red pants.  I didn't intend to actually hurt anymore, I told a passing professor, just blow off steam.

Cuando me desperté, miré diferentes

I met my supervisor under a bridge, I was late, but he wasn't angry.  I ran out of my house rashly, grabbing the first shoes I saw (high heels) and dashed out fearing his wrath because I was always late.  He was laughing, there, not angry at all.

"We didn't have an appointment," he said, "I don't need your papers."  He asked me to do something and I agreed, and then we walked up to school together, following another employee who'd clambered up the brick stairs quickly.

"Let's go up these," he said, "they have steps."  This led me to believe there was another way to go back up towards the school, though I couldn't see it.

After the brick stairs, we had to climb up a blue ramp made out of slippery material.  I wasn't used to climbing it with high heels on so I struggled a bit.

"Why did you wear those shoes?" my advisor asked, "You never wear high heels."
"I know, but I thought I was late so I just grabbed the first ones I saw."
"I see."

After we made it to the top I went inside and bought a plane ticket home.
I flew home, to Arkansas, and the first place I went was to my childhood church.  All the ladies were there, typing away, I gave hugs to them all, and inquired after my mom and sister.

"They're not here right now," they said.
I called my Mom.  "Mom, don't tell Kristin, but I'm home."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, and I want to surprise Kristin."
"Ok."
I was alarmed at how nonplussed she was.
Next I called Kristin.
"Kristin, what's up?"
"I'm on a walk with Mom right now.  It's rude of me to talk to you.  I'll call you later.  Bye."
"Wait!  Wait!  How about you walk by the church?"
My mom grabbed the phone from Kristin and said, "Look Lauren, we're busy right now."
I couldn't believe it.  "Well, where are you walking?  I'll meet you there!"
It seemed like Mom and Kristin were arguing about where to go to walk.
"All we've been doing since I've been home is walk.  We've walked everywhere," Kristin sighed.

Knowing I was the solution to Kristin's boredom, I couldn't believe Mom was behaving so strangely.  It was as if she hadn't understood that I was home.  Home.  In Arkansas. For the first time in a year.
But they remained unconvinced and I hung up the phone and decided to wait.
I was in some kind of plaza, possibly the atrium of our church.  I held twigs and danced around in the leaves, twirling up pine needles, euphoric to be home.  While I danced, I thought about who I could call.  I could only remember two people: my high school boyfriend and Matthew.  I thought about calling Matthew, but I remembered how far away St. Louis was.  Then I realized I had to decide when I was going back to school.  It seemed like there was something I had to do on Thursday.  What had I done?  Why had I come home for such a short amount of time?
But it was worth it, I thought, in all my glee.  Just stirring up the dirt of home, letting the grass roll over my shoes. I should come home every weekend, I thought.  Just for the same amount of days for which I'd gone to Hong Kong.