I don’t know if you’ll be with your husband and son at a pool hall, working on your cartoons while the other two play eight-ball, when the texts and calls come in to say your father-in-law has died on the other side of the country — but I was.
I often accompany my two pool fans to their multi-hour activity so that I can be near them while I draw, instead of at home in the much-too-quiet. The other day was no different.
When we got there, the pool players set up shop while I went to the windows along the back wall. We had the entire pool hall — with music and wait staff scrolling their phones — all to ourselves.
I sat down on a stool in front of the windows and peered out. I was three stories high, looking out onto a self-contained chunk of the world. Below me was a big parking lot that served a retail plenitude. There was a grocery store, Starbucks, restaurants, and rows and nooks of shops — furniture, pet, liquor, barber, and second-hand. Beyond that, comprising the horizon, were high-rise commercial and residential buildings. I live in a federal contractor haven — lots of big companies with big offices, and the accompanying apartments that lend a housing hand.