Stating the Obvious
The setting sun made my skin look almost orange as I looked over the village below. I listened to the words of the CD you made me and wondered if they were supposed to mean anything. Earlier in the day, while I was stretched across the hammock with my arms behind my head, Oscar stretched himself on top of me and started looking at my armpits. I had shaven just a few hours before, but, as most armpits are, you could still see where the hair had been razored. He poked his little finger at it and said, “What is that in here?” “It’s hair,” I responded, partially offended and partially awkwardly amused. “When you’re about 13 you’ll start to get hair there too.” Later in the day Ines passed me in the hall wearing bobbles on her head and a nametag that read in English, “Space Girl.” I headed into the computer room where Oscar was sitting on the floor wearing a strange black cloak with felt shapes of various colors glued to it. And, on his chest, a nametag that read, “Space Boy.” I’m not sure what the kids were playing while I was on my walk, but I’m almost glad I wasn’t around for the sake of the galaxy.
