Friends For an Hour

The sun isn't up yet, still sleeping behind the tall pine trees, still waiting to rise. A light blue glow fills the sky as Mark steps into the cool mist. Breathing slowly, he closes his eyes, sleep still poring from his mind. Off in the distance, a hawk screams its eerie call. Mark begins to walk a little ways down the trail. He remembers the trail- last night- before dinner, with Mr. Corey... he remembers Mr. Corey- Mr. Corey talking to his kids- looked up- saw mark like- "Oh... you're African American"- walked away, dragging his kids away from the beautiful, beautiful view. Here mark was again, this time, no middle aged white men stood there, no children, just mark, staring out at the canyon below. He sat down there, thinking of his family, and his new job, and how dang hungry he was already!

   3 hours later, Mark was back inside in his room. He was staying at one of those old wooden lodges with the huge fireplaces, and the spiral staircases. Mark was in Yosemite national park on vacation. "I'm going to go sit outside" he said to his wife and he walked out on to the second story balcony. Mark eased himself into a deck chair and pulled out a notebook and a pen. He liked to be productive in the morning, he liked to do things, always be moving, always be working towards something, some end goal some finish line- that's how he stayed motivated- that's how he kept going. Right now, his goal was to get published, and that is what he was working for. He moved the pen down, inches from the page. He held his breath, eyes fixed on the page... then let it out in a gust of air. The words wouldn't come- they didn't flow- in fact, they hadn't come since last month. he needed something- some material- but he didn't have anything- anything. he stood up and walked inside- head down, eyes half closed. He tossed his notebook onto the desk and walked over to the door. Mark had heard that their was a big breakfast served in the dinning hall- and boy was he ready for it!

His family trailing behind, Mark walked down the vast oak staircase and into the main lobby. Where the desk clerk pointed him in the right direction. He entered the dining hall and looked around. And then- well he wasn't surprised- Mr. Corey, filling up plate with food from the buffet. Mr. Corey, judging so quickly, that look he gave Mark, Mr Corey with his suit and his tie, and- "Excuse me- could I sit here". "Oh- uh- sure!" Mr. Corey took a seat across from mark and began to eat. Mark furrowed his brow, than stood up and got food for him self and his kids. He pointed his kids to their seats and sat down at the long table. Mr Corey spoke first. "So where are you guys from?" maybe- maybe Mr Corey wasn't so... "New York. and you?" mark said. "We're from California, around San Francisco". "You a-" Mark took a bite of food "basketball fan?" a grin spread over Mr. coreys face. "Warriors, bro!" the two men fist bumped and chuckled. "By the way, its Mark" Mark said. "Jared" Mr. Cory replied. The two men shook hands and proceeded to talk about the warriors previous season. from a distance, the two families probably would have looked like good friends that had know each other for years, and as mark talked to Mr Corey he saw that maybe Mr. Corey wasn't so bad after all. Mark glanced over at his wife chatting with Mrs. Corey and wondered, if the two families had lived in the same town, would they have been Friends? Mark's son reached across the table for the salt, and as he pulled his hand back, he bumped Jared's glass of orange juice, knocking it over. Mark clenched his teeth as juice spilled into Jared's lap. It dripped off his freshly pressed pants and onto the floor. "Oh! I'm so sorry" Mark and his wife said in unison. Mr. Corey squeezed his eyes shut, and let out a breath of air, then laughed good-naturedly. "Its fine, I'm just surprised that it was your son that knocked the cup over and not mine" he said before walking away to change. When Jared came back mark apologized again. "No man, as I said your good!" Jared replied "didn't like those pants anyways" Mark smiled and took another bite of food.

  And even after the two families parted, the feeling of unity followed mark around. Like he was at peace with the world, like the wall of separation had lifted, like maybe the world wasn't as cold as it seems at a glance. And yes race was still there- hate was still present, but not with everyone. And knowing that, knowing that he wasn't alone, that helped somehow...

    The next day, Mark was on his way home. There was a long drive ahead and mark was pretty tired. The slow rise and fall of the road slipping by under the car wheels lulled mark into a daze. Then he looked up and saw a sign for a place to stop "Theirs a food court on the next exit, anyone hungry?" "Me!" Mark's son said. "Alrighty" Mark replied and he turned onto the exit. As he pulled into the parking lot, he smiled to himself, then climbed out of the car. "OK what do you guys want to get?" "what do they have?" Marks son said. "Menu's right over their" Mark pointed to I large sign. He walked over to it and began to read the options out loud. Then Mark pulled out his now-full notebook and jotted a few things down quickly. "Mark what are you getting?" his wife said. "Oh sorry" he replied and ordered the food. Once they finished ordering, Mark noticed another family eating outside. He walked over and sat down in the picnic table beside them. "So... where are you guys from?"