june 2

the baron is thinking about a number of things today, which is june 3, 2008. well, not exactly thinking, but there are a number of things (ideas? bubbles? expectations?) floating around in the back of her mind, just below the surface ("the surface" being, 'i am hungry, i am thirsty, and i am bored at work.'). chief among these things - bubbles? - is june 2, which was yesterday.

june 2 is significant for the baron because it is the birthday of a boy she dated a long time ago, long before the husband. this was the high-school boyfriend, the one who helped her understand the unholy power teenage girls can have over teenage boys, and that that power, if wielded insensitively, can be very destructive and unkind. the boyfriend was, sadly and truthfully, kind of like training wheels for the baron - the one to cut her teeth on. (that's awful! and she felt awful typing it.) from the ripe old age of 31, the baron is thinking that her 18 year old self instinctively understood about that power and abused it, for sport and convenience (AWFUL!). the 31 year old baron also suspects that, even as her 18 year old self talked to the boyfriend of their future and marriage, she (the 18 year old one) kind of knew they were doomed, as in her mind all high school sweethearts are. (this has, by the way, been proved wrong - don and cindy in california and jack and theresa in maryland are couples formed in high school and together still - WOOT!).

'so what?' you are thinking. 'june 2 comes around once a year, so get over it baron!' reader, that is good advice, and the baron is trying to.

a few months ago, while in california for a wedding, the baron was - at the behest of her mother - cleaning out her childhood bedroom and came across a box of photographs, dozens of photographs, both loose and in an album. these pictures were of the baron and the boyfriend, in high school and in college. nothing salacious: trips to disneyland, graduations, at petting zoos, carving pumpkins for halloween... pretty tame stuff. they are the tangible evidence of poorly chosen clothes, bad haircuts, fat times, thin times, and casual cruelties. perhaps irrationally, the baron felt that because these photographs were taken with a film camera, and had been developed, and have lasted 10 some odd years, they should be treated with... reverence? respect? anyway, she didn't feel like she could pitch them into the trash, though she wanted and wants nothing more than to have these pictures BE GONE FROM HER. instead, she boxed them up and carried them home.

the baron has spoken to nearly all of her friends, soliciting advice about what to do about these photographs. unanimously, they've advised that she send them to him, after removing any photos of herself (for the boyfriend is now married with two children. the baron does not want to offend the boyfriend's wife.). the baron actually doesn't even want to know the boyfriend: though she was glad to hear that he'd done well for himself, she has no desire to rekindle a relationship of any sort with him. like the photographs, he is proof that she was unkind, he has the memories to corroborate her own recollections of her terrible self. she's kind of trying to move away from that version of herself. aren't we all, though?

so. all the preceeding text brought the baron to yesterday, a day that she had taken off work for two doctors appointments and a job interview. the husband needed a lift to the airport, so at 6 am they left for bwi; she was back home by 7:45 and into the shower. by 8:15, the baron was heating up wax for her legs and, ahem, bikini line when she got a phone call from the doctor's office cancelling the 9:15 appointment. 'argh!' she said. at noon, she had a dentist appointment - which went fine, except for the dentist's opening line: 'so, do you want braces? for cosmetic reasons?' the baron declined. at 3pm, she had a job interview, and the best thing that can be written about that is that the baron's suit fit and she was on time. while it was not a terrible day, it wasn't a great one either, suffused with tones of 'meh'.

she realized afterwards, while reclining on the sofa with bvd, that it was the boyfriend's birthday. the weight of the photographs, the meanings and the memories they carried, came crashing down around her shoulders. the baron is not particularly spiritual; she's not a believer in omens or signs.

but.

the baron thinks that her crappy day yesterday has to do with her avoidance of these pictures. everyone she polled advised her to send them to him. and still, she's dragging her feet, dragging them but good. every time she passes by these photographs, tucked away on a low shelf in the dining room, she averts her eyes and diverts her attentions. because they are so discretely shelved, the baron could probably ignore them for the next ten years, but she doesn't want to.

what she wants to do is sort them, package them, say a tiny prayer (to the god in whom she does not believe) that the boyfriend will be happy to receive them, that his wife will not be offended, and send them off. then, they'll BE GONE FROM HER and june 2 will just be the day the dentist inadvertently criticized her crooked bottom teeth.