when we grow up

what do you want to be when you grow up?” he mumbles lazily, as we sit in the grass watching the wind play with the water.
“when do we grow up?” I ask.
“you know… when we feel we’ve figured it out. maybe when we have a dog and a fish, with a fence to hold a house in. maybe when there are two cars parked in a garage and enough money to host dinner parties with lobster and charades.”
“i don’t think I want to grow up then.” I says. “lobster freaks me out.”
“okay. well at the end of your days then: what do you want to be?” he replies with a sigh that is more expectant than impatient.
“laughter.” i says.
“laughter?” he asks, “how can one be laughter?”
“i think you just know it when you are it,” i says.
“But why not something… better?” he asks as he turns to me, blocking my view of the water.
“Better?” i ask, moving to see the water.
“Yeah, better…” he replies,” like love. don’t you always say it’s love that makes the world go around?”
“there are many things that make the world go around: puppies, the sun’s gravitational pull, procreation, politics… but I guess it is love that sets it all in motion… except maybe politics. but to answer your question,” I say before he can remind me again, “i am love- two beautiful holes in true love’s hands sealed that deal already, without my choice or opinion, but I think laughter is my choice.,. and I think I would want to be something that I have chosen to be, along with something that I truly am.”
He seems satisfied with that response, and we both return to watching the wind tickle the water and the water flirtatiously push the wind away.

technology

“do you ever wish we could go back to a simpler time?” he asks me, between bites of ketchup slathered french fries.
“yes.” I say, before taking a bite of my lettuce-wrapped, bunless, grass-fed burger with extra organic mustard and no mayo. My burger quickly slides out of the lettuce’s slippery grip and onto the floor, leaving me with a mouth full of mustard.
We sit in dissatisfied silence. Me, dissatisfied at the poor design of my meal and the mustard that I am now doubting is organic. Him, dissatisfied at me and my lack of response.
Finally, I swallow the mustard, reach for his fries and milkshake and ask, “what do you mean by simpler time?”
He waits for a minute before answering, unsure if I’m humoring him or genuinely curious. Eventually he either assumes the latter or ignores the former. “I guess I mean a time before constant updates, a time when people didn’t feel the need to share every little detail about their lives. a time when there was more anonymity and less…less… you know?”
“identity?” I interject.
“well yes and no…” he says, grabbing his milkshake back. He pretends to be annoyed that it’s all gone.
I pick up his iphone: “Siri. look up antonyms for anonymity.”
She responds in a british accent: “okay, I found this : almond: an oval shaped edible seed of the…”
“No, Siri, antonyms for anonymous”
“the answer is onymous”
“Okay, Siri, what about anonymity?”
“Who, me?”
“Siri, I don’t think we are understanding each other.”
“Ok, you don’t then.”
He wisely interrupts my conversation with Siri before it gets too out of hand, as these conversations have sometimes gotten. “See, this is what I mean. Before, we would have just had a simple conversation, just you and me. But now, now we’re in a world where we can get information about anything, anytime. Before, life was just simple. Don’t you ever wish we could go back to a different day, a simpler time, before life got so complicated?”
“Before what exactly?”
“I dunno. just before.”
“Before technology?”
“Yeah. maybe. maybe before cell phones.”
“My answer is still yes.” I tell him.
And then I throw his cell phone out the window.