Hangers

Tonight I attended the Walla Walla Symphony's dress rehearsal with my wonderful parents. As a child, symphonies put me to sleep and I would spend the entire performance getting elbowed in the ribs by family members because of my slumbering noises. It's not that I didn't appreciate the symphony. Not at all! But the humming of strings accompanied with the brazen noises of brass and the rhythmic patterns of tympani mallets had a calming, lulling affect on me that no other music had. I had hoped that as I grew I would become less prone to my sleepy symphonic episodes, but tonight found me struggling to keep my eyes open as I sleepily read the textbook propped up against my legs. It was time to come back to my cubicle of a dorm room and let slumber claim me in its proper place: my bed.

Being as tired I was, I took the elevator to the 7th floor of Foreman Hall with two other traveling companions. The elevator ride is relatively long compared to the average elevator ride because everything in Foreman hall is old and decrepit... Except, perhaps the people in it... The long ride means that Sacha Kravig must make more conversation because I hate the awkward "I-don't-know-who-you-are-but-I'm-gonna-try-not-to-stare-at-you-across-this-little-box-because-even-though-we-both-go-to-the-same-school-and-see-each-other-rather-often-in-this-elevator-I-don't-actually-know-you-and-I-don't-want-you-to-think-I'm-a-stalker" mentality that always accompanies long elevator rides in the dorm. Glancing around for some conversation starter, I noticed something in the corner of the elevator... it was a hanger. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a hanger... Like, the kind you use to hold clothes in a closet. A white, wire hanger abandoned by some poor soul who saw no real purpose for it and chose to leave it alone and helpless in the great wide world of the elevator. I stared at it for a moment and then stooped down to pick it up. Holding it up just above eye level I paused and then said out loud, "Curious." The three of us began to make up stories deciding what a hanger in an elevator would be good for. We laughed, cried, and generally had a merry time until the elevator stopped on the 7th floor and we all exited.

I am now in my dorm room. Ready to fall asleep. There is a white wire hanger on the wall above my desk. And there are two new friends of mine living on the floor above my head. Friendships found on a hanger. Friendships hung on a hanger... Let's appreciate the little things. Like little white wire hangers trapped in slow elevators in Foreman Hall.