A Corky Life
I see life as a cork. The kind of cork you see on top of a wine bottle or the kind in the Titanic’s life jackets. The cork is always floating, swishing in the multiple currents that the waves shove against the tides. The cork is my inspiration for life. To surface and to go with ease, taking any plunges that you are given, but then to resurface again with fervor.
I recall of one night with my friends. No, that was a misapprehension. They were more like my sisters who fought like sisters, but made up like sisters. We were all circled around Lindsey’s dirty off white counter that was hidden under Kit Kat wrappers and random opened cans of each others creations of Sprite and Coca Cola. It was 9:36 pm and her parents were at the local football game but we didn’t bother going. We began to grow bored, so of course, we went on MySpace to get ideas that would amuse us. Amelia asked her 64 friends, Lindsey asked her 101 friends, Kayla asked her 54 friends, and I asked my measly 36 friends. We got nothing but ads.
Then it came to us simultaneously as our eyes snapped wide open and we bounced like small children. Why not mix sour and stinky vinegar with chalky baking soda? As we brewed our concoction, my eyes danced around the room, to check the time so her parents wouldn’t have WWIII in her kitchen. As I glanced around, my eyes saw something I thought at the time was gross. A cork in a pot filled with water and spaghetti sauce? Why wouldn’t her parent toss away the cork into the garbage? The cork just floated there, motionless until Lindsey shoved the powdery baking soda half cup into the pot, turning the filthy pot into a winter wonderland. The cork was jostled, floating and making circles around until it stopped and resumed its tranquil position. I smiled, though soon turned to laughter when Amelia cracked another joke.
After we measured our half quart of vinegar and three cups of baking soda, we sprinted out to the deck where the icy November air pierced our pale skin and stung our open mouthed lips as we hurled with laughter when we threw the bubbling experiment off the deck and onto the paved back yard patio. The bubbles detonated the sky, kissing us with foamy bubbles.
This was the kind of moment where you needed the Kodak four dollar camera, the perfect portrayal. Four fourteen year old girls laughing wearing neon pajamas with the midnight back drop with white fizz flurrying like a blizzard. It was when I came to realize that I was on the tidal wave of life. Life included friends and friends included laughter because of a fanatic game. The cork is just the same, so when the grape bottomed stained cork swims around the dirty pot, I am living the best life, a corky life.
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