I don’t want to imply that this is me, but if I were to star in a small indie web comic, it would look a lot like the Dad.
The Dad gets a hard time in many panels of This is Pi Day. We often catch him feeling a bit overwhelmed, a bit exasperated, and a bit outwitted by his daughter. He’s not, really. The moments when he is in control are simply just not very funny.
You know this guy. He’s that guy who you can have a beer with, your running partner, your co-worker who has been with the company long enough to know better but not long enough to escape via a better vacation package.
His days are filled with drudgery in front of a glowing monitor, so he makes the most of his evenings and weekend, spending time with his daughter and leading her on adventures enough to fill a comic strip.
Nameless only behind the lines of a small-time comic strip, the Girl is a modern every-kid.
Clever and kind.
Brave but cautious.
Entrenched in a world of high technology and freed by an intuitive grace online, but locked in a small city surrounded by abundant nature, basked under hot summers, and shrouded in deep frozen winters. She can be anything, wants everything, and aspires to reach a potential uncluttered by reality.
Within the bounds of a comic strip she may convey herself as indifferent, distracted or bored, but this reveals itself to be a product of a limitless curiosity and a fiercely rational mind.
If the universe is denoted by its indifference to our existence, then the caw of a curious magpie is all the heed we may ever earn from its unfathomable infinite depths. Many consider them nuisance animals, but to a rare few they are bright, clever, and cultured.
The unofficial symbol of our city is this unassuming cousin of the crow, a corvid of misunderstood intelligence.
They are ubiquitous. Splendid. Awesome.
I run. And for as long as I have been keeping track, in the years since I first noticed their presence, I have travelled neither streets nor trails in my sneakers in the absence of these birds.
One interpretation is that they are simply everywhere. Another is that they are there for a deeper purpose. In reality, I assume it is the former. But in my heart, I imagine that in a more magical universe it could be the latter.
In the confines of this comic they embrace a glimmer of that magical realism and offer an unheard commentary from just out of earshot. It may be clever or it may be confused, but there is probably a hint of wisdom from their view among the branches.