We Filled Out the Form

March nineteenth. The thing is, we had been standing at that counter for probably four minutes before either of us actually picked up the pen. The brochure was right there. The class had openings. There was no good reason to keep standing there deliberating except that deliberating is what I do, and apparently Simone was content to let me do it for exactly as long as it was funny and not one second longer.

I had the brochure. I had looked at it, really looked at it, for the first time last week after she mentioned she was thinking about trying something new. Beginner wheel-throwing. Six sessions. Wednesday evenings. It was sitting there already circled, which I did not mention, and which Simone almost certainly already knew. We signed up for the same session. The woman at the desk offered to take a photo and I almost said no and then didn't, which is how I know it was actually a good day.

the moment before we actually committed, Simone had already decided

Simone had already decided before we walked through the door. I realized this around the time I was still reading the class description aloud as though reading it would tell me something the words hadn't already said. She just waited. The thing about saying yes to something small is that it rarely feels small when you're in the middle of talking yourself out of it, and then it does the moment you actually do it. We walked out and it was raining a little and that was it. Wednesday evenings. Beginner wheel-throwing. We filled out the form.

walking out like we'd done something significant. we had.