Carol

“He said focus. The word focus. I hear angels singing. Everything goes dark except for a light that beams down on Sean. It is a God-given sign- like when people see the Virgin Mary in their grilled cheese, except this isn't religious and I'm actually not a big fan of dairy. I stare at the back of his head. His HEAD. Something I see every day but never really see because it's been there forever. Since the first day of third grade.

I crumple up my web. I don't need it. Praise be, the Focus Gods have spoken.

I am going to write about Sean Griswold's Head.”
― Lindsey Leavitt, Sean Griswold's Head

“We have different interests,
fit into different cliques, but the length of our friendship makes
most of that unimportant. You go through enough with a person
over a long enough period of time and they just become a part of
who you are.”
― Lindsey Leavitt, Sean Griswold's Head

“They just change. Their body changes. Their abilities - the things they do that make them who they are - leave, sometimes temporarily, sometimes forever. Every day they wake up with that big what if?

And nothing is scarier than a life filled with what ifs - living by day without predictability and control. Some people end up losing feeling. Some have uncontrollable spasms. Some can't function. Some end up blind or in a wheelchair. Some end up bedridden and paralyzed.

It's hard to know who "some people" will be.”
― Lindsey Leavitt, Sean Griswold's Head

“I don't know if I've ever really touched him. Maybe once or twice when passing papers back. You know, even shorter, his hair looks so soft. Maybe it's time I rub it a little. So I can give more concrete details.

I stretch my hand across my desk, but stop when I realize the horror of what I was about to do. Pet Sean. Have I lost my mind?”
― Lindsey Leavitt, Sean Griswold's Head