SPOONS v.III

This is a spoon that was given to me in December 2014. On a sailboat in California. By the boy who had that February been assigned the bunk bed next to mine at the hostel in Panama where I got that other spoon from before.  I went to California, where he lived on a sailboat, where this spoon lived also. While I was there he packed me a lunch once and included this spoon. The spoon was for yogurt we bought at the grocery store on the way back from the airport on the night I arrived. You can tell when a spoon is this one because it has the little black mark on the edge of the round part.

I arrived in Long Beach on the coldest day of the year. It stayed cold like that until the day I left. When I woke up the final morning I was spooning with the dog. She nestled her nestled against my chest with her head next to mine on the pillow. My forearm was tucked under her front leg. She had a big, open-mouth smile. The boy who gave me this spoon was on the paws side of the dog. He belted his khakis, cuffed at the calf egregiously unevenly. He got ready to leave for the day. I told him here's your spoon back that I cleaned and everything, and he said no, keep it, I want you to have it, you might need it. I walked with him to the marina parking lot to use the key to the bathroom before he left. I recovered my bag from the seatless backseat of his truck. He and his dog drove away.

I shuffled back along the tipsy ramp with my duffel bag over my shoulder. I tumbled into the sailboat. I arranged the blankets nicely on the triangle bed framed by the hull. I folded the couch back into a table. I left a thank-you note on the fridge, with a folded article about space-or-whatever that we had been talking about torn from my tired Economist, under the Moroccan magnet I brought as a gift. I tried to do the dishes but I couldn’t find the hose with my hand when I reached out the sailboat’s sliver of a kitchen window onto the dock where the hose lived.

I got to the airport early because I was lonely, alone on the boat. Most of the Long Beach airport is outdoor space defined by walls without roof. It’s designed to look like a boat and it does. Supine with no makeup and no underwear on an airport bench, I felt warm sun on my face for the first time in months. I shielded my eyes with my dog-smell forearm. Then I bought airport kiosk yogurt and ate it with this spoon. When I landed in New York it was very below freezing and sleeting and I had an immediate midnight meeting with a music producer who was leaving the next day. On the way, I texted the boy who gave me this spoon, as he asked, to let him know my plane landed, and yes I did need the spoon, and would he send me a photo I wanted, but I never ever heard back from him again.