dry

It hasn't rained in ages... who's complaining?

Certainly not me. The sunny dry weather has absolutely brightened my mood and overall outlook.

In spite of the dry weather, the flowers in my garden are looking especially fabulous this year. I am amazed that such things of beauty can possibly push their way through the dry cracked earth.

I love flowers...

I dunno, in a weird sort of way, it kinda reminds me of how the phoenix rises from the ashes to start anew.

Or the soul of a person.

Here's the choice: Give up, stop watering and watching them wither and die... or take a chance... water them carefully and eventually they will bloom.

Hmmmmm................. I have to go water my garden now.

Yes, Read My Mind!

Aries 7/17/07: "Are you unconsciously expecting a loved one to read your mind? This person loves you madly, but that simply isn't realistic or reasonable. Recalibrate what you require from this relationship and things will get easier."

Snort. Yes, read my mind! Isn't that what's always expected of me?

Behind These Hazel Eyes...

... there is a guy who has had plenty of time to do a lot of thinking over the last few months.

So, I just wanted to take the time to say thank you to all those who supported me... it seemed like forever to feel like my life is getting back to normal. Albeit a new type of normal, but normal nonetheless.

I've made tons of mistakes, but the important part is that I've learned from them. I can't believe how much more that I know now than I did way back then. I feel like I am a much bigger and better person.

I'm sure I'm still going to make many many more mistakes through out the course of my life, but hopefully they can be more learning opportunities for me.

Okay, I'm babbling...

A Smile

I've waited a long time to see a smile in my direction... Not just any old smile, but the kind of smile that makes you happy to the core and touches your heart.

(To be clear, I am not talking only a few weeks or months here... It has been quite a long while since I've seen that type of smile.)

Someone smiled at me that way for the first time last night. I am not entirely sure, but I had a feeling it was going to be coming at some point, but I'm rather surprised as to the "how" and "when". I think the fact that it was unexpected shook me to the core more than I ever thought that it would.

It felt wonderful, to be honest. I had forgotten how much a genuine smile could mean when it's directed only at you and no one else.

Groovy, huh?

Action! No!

ARIES: July 24, 2007

You love action. You crave motion. And right now you want to jump into the fray and start fixing the problem. Leaving a situation alone is the best tactic. Sometimes the solution is worse than the problem.

**********************************************************

Wow, who are these horoscope people and how do they know me so well?

Oprah... and loss.

Oprah mourns death of her dog Gracie

July 18, 2007 at 1:20 pm

Oprah Winfrey is mourning the death of her 2-year-old golden retriever, Gracie.

"Weeks have passed," Winfrey says in the August issue of O, the Oprah Magazine. "And the pain has not subsided. Every time I think about it, my heart starts racing and I feel like I just got stabbed in the chest."

On May 26, Gracie choked to death on a plastic ball that belonged to Sophie, Winfrey's 12-year-old cocker spaniel, while out with her dog walker and two other golden retrievers, Winfrey says.

"I ran barefoot out of the house and found the dog walker and one of my security guys pumping her chest," Winfrey, 53, recalls. "Just as I reached them, the security guy looked up and said, `I'm sorry, ma'am. We tried everything. I'm sorry. She's gone.'"

Winfrey who "stood there dazed, stunned, crying" as Gracie was placed in a golf cart says she learned this lesson: Enjoy life but remember to slow down, too.

"She never stopped moving. Was energy in motion. ... I have never seen a being, human or animal, always so full of joy," Winfrey says of Gracie, who ran amok and gulped food and treats.

"This dog lived every moment as though it were her last."
Winfrey says she "got the message" to slow down and catch her breath when Gracie died.

"I don't believe in accidents," says the host of "The Oprah Winfrey Show." "I know for sure that everything in life happens to help us live."

*********************************************************

Death, depression, anxiety, and relationship splitting all have something in common... dealing with strong emotions, loss, and grieving. It is a tough concept for most folks to get their heads around. The symptoms and feelings that Oprah describes are common amongst those who are dealing with loss of any kind.

Loss is such a relative concept. Who says that certain types of loss are bigger than others? Don't marginalize Oprah's loss because it was "just a pet."

Don't marginalize any losses...

Certainly there may be varying levels and degrees, but overall the feelings are the same. The healing process is still the same.

There is also no one right way to cope. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone views their own losses and the losses of others in a different way. It all seems like such a simple thing to solve when it's not happening to you.

It's been said that "time heals everything". Sure, tell Oprah that. Tell anyone who had a loss that and see how much better it makes them feel.

It doesn't. At least not in the short term.

Nobody wants to hear how they will feel better in a few weeks, months or years. Grief, loss, and the feelings associated with it are so consuming that most people need a must faster solution than waiting around.

In some cases, just the act of waiting for the feelings to go away is even more painful than the initial loss.

So in the short term, what stops the pain, the thoughts, and the feelings of hopelessness and dispair? When does the hurt stop? And how long is "short term" before it becomes "long term"? At what point do we stop relying on "time" to heal and move on to try something else?

"We Need to Talk."

Why do those four words inspire a sense of dread for everyone hears them? And why does a pit develop in the stomach of everyone who must utter them? Whatever the reason, they seem to be an unpleasant prelude to some tough conversation.

Four simple words... "We Need to Talk..." they usually end up being the catalyst of some big complex messy situation. Even the most innocuous of circumstances always seems enlarged with the addition of those words. Even the smallest problem seems amplified by them.

I've uttered them myself a few times. I always had the best intentions. I always thought that if I was just honest, whatever the concern was would just be recognized, worked on, and ultimately would go away. Maybe it was me, maybe it wasn't, but overall... it's never worked out that way.

As soon as the words are spoken, we immediately try to shield ourselves against the storm that just may be brewing. We try to review what on earth it is that we could have done wrong. What happened? Can it be fixed? Or is it the start of a bigger problem?

We start preparing our mental defenses to be and try to be ready for the worst case scenario. Am I in trouble? Am I getting fired? Am I spending the night on the couch or is the relationship in trouble? Is it over?

So it's no surprise that when I heard the words not once, but twice today from two different people, my stomach automatically started twisting and my head started spinning.

The second person who said that to me followed up the first four words with "you don't have anything to be concerned about". I've heard nothing more on the topic... yet.

The first person who uttered those words today resolved themselves kinda quickly and it turned out to be a big non-event. In fact, I even feel a little silly for being nervous.

So now I am waiting... and wondering. What could it be? Am I over-reacting? I guess it wouldn't be the first time. Although, I'm mentally preparing for the worst, I'm hoping the outcome ends up being just as big of a non-event as the first.

Time to play the waiting game, I guess.

Back to Work

It's Monday and I am back to work.

Surprisingly, I am actually being pretty productive today. "Whoa," I thought to myself... can't have that happen. So naturally, what do you think happened next? Of course, I decided to take a break and blog for a minute.

As a departure from my usual blog... I guess I don't really have any particular point in mind today. Just a few random thoughts for the day....

...Random Thought 1... boy did i have a great vacation this weekend... nothing like nice weather, a little shopping, good food, fun people, and good conversation.

...Random Thought 2... life is moving both too quickly and too slowly... I really wish that some things would just go away... and along those same lines, I really need to slow down, smell the roses and enjoy life.

...Random Thought 3... beer is good... what makes beer better is a good friend or two to enjoy it with.

...Random Thought 4... I am NOT cryptic. Mysterious, yes. Cryptic, no.

...Random Thought 5... As it turns out, I am not as patient as I previously thought. Oh, i can wait. I have been. But honestly... isn't enough, enough?

...Random Thought 6... Don't fuck with me. I really do have a Sicilian temper. It may take a while, but when I am finally pushed to the limit, you won't be happy.

...Random Thought 7... Damn, the weather is nice today...

...Random Thought 8... People who act like assholes do it for a reason. Simply, they are assholes. At one point I thought that there was no way some people could be THAT stupid. As it turns out, they are not that stupid... they are simply assholes. Recently, I have deal with a couple... personally and professionally. I hope that someday they get treated as poorly as they treat others.

...Random Thought 9... I don't talk in circles. I do however always try to establish my point, then support my point with relevant statements and examples. Thank god there are people out there who get that....

...Random Thought 10... If I work hard, I will meet my goal. My goal is to be better than you. How do you feel about that?

...Random Thought 11... I've met some really nice new friends lately... I am looking forward to getting to know you better!

...Random Thought 12... When is my new car gonna get here?

...Random Thought 13... Apparently good things really do come to those who wait... I have gotten a couple really interesting phone calls and emails today! Nice! Now say it with cash!

Okay, I think I've pretty much exhausted the thoughts rolling around in my brain today... I really should get back to being productive.

Power

"Power.

It's the thing that most people don't think about... until it's taken away. Whether it's the electricity, political power, or a lover's influence, we all want some sort of power in our lives.

If only to give ourselves choices.

Yes.

To be without choices, to feel utterly powerless... well... it's a lot like being alone in the dark."

It's interesting to see what people will do to gain power; to have those extra choices. Play the political politics game at the office or the community. Talk to the people around you to learn that extra bit of knowledge. To gain the upper hand? To help make your decisions easier? Harder?

And why?

Leak out bits and pieces of information to those you know won't keep it to themselves... to change your position or even more firmly establish your reputation? To gain leverage? To bolster credibility? To tear down others?

It's like a game. A dark game. A dangerous game.

Who will come out on top? Who will shine in the bright light... cause when at the bottom, it's dark and lonely.

And no one likes to be lonely.

Hero

I've had the idea of a "hero" tumbling around in my head recently....

That particular concept has come up in conversation several times in the last few weeks. Each time, the context has been a little different but ultimately the overall meaning is the same.

In general, sometimes a hero is an ordinary person faced with an extraordinary circumstance. Despite the odds being stacked against him or her, the hero typically prevails in the end.

And sometimes a hero is the "knight in shining armor"... the person who sweeps you off your feet and protects you for the rest of your life. They are the person who is there for you no matter what the circumstance, supporting you and seeing you threw whatever life has to show you. All done while smiling and assuring you that the future will be grand and golden.

Overall, we live in a world where heroes sometimes take a prominent role in life. People are fascinated by heroes. Just watch the daily news or open the paper… people are considered heroes all time when they overcome remarkable situations. People want — OR NEED — heroes in their lives.

Heroes are something to believe in…. someone to count on.

Though out my life, there have been a few people that I've considered to be a hero… my dad, my former boss, a former lover.

I believe that when you're facing the world alone, life can be a very long lonely road. When your hero finally comes along and takes your hand, the emptiness inside disappears. Old fears and insecurities get cast aside, and it seems that you can survive anything. Your hero is in your corner caring for you when no one else is there; offering support and encouragement. Your hero waits for you, no matter how long it takes.

Sadly, at one point or another, I've been disappointed by my hero's. I've been let down. I've been disillusioned, discouraged, and disenchanted. Aren't heroes supposed to be perfect?

Sometimes I need to remember that heroes make mistakes too. Idealistic isn't always reality. They can't always make everything better. They are human and fallible, too. It's a tough lesson to learn, though.

Personally, it shook me to the core when I realized that my concept of "perfect" really isn't really perfect at all. It's flawed. It's unrealistic. It's even romantic. But it is not perfect.

But, it IS okay.

With that thought in mind, I wonder if I am somebody's hero too. Have I touched someone's life the way a few have touched mine? It saddens me to think that at some point, I may have let them down and shattered the illusion for them. Was I ever the reason that someone wondered why there hero let them down?

But, maybe that's it…

Just maybe the realization that we all make mistakes and have the capacity to grow from them IS the "extraordinary circumstance" that we all face. Maybe it's that which makes each and every one of us an every day hero?

Can it be that the true hero is actually inside each one of us? Is it how we handle the ordeals of life that make us remarkable?

Life isn't easy. Aren't those who are able to fight and overcome the challenges of everyday life are the true heroes. The people that can listen to others and make it work… and learn from their life. That is a hero.

That idea makes me feel better… I am a hero. AND, I am surrounded by good people that are heroes, too.

Although, maybe it's the romantic in me that still likes the idea that there is one special hero out there who will gallop in to rescue me. It can't hurt to think that just maybe my knight in shining armor will arrive someday.

Well, who knows? It could happen!

Will you be my hero? Can I be YOUR hero?

In the center of all the commotion...

It's been quite a hullabaloo... I barely have a free minute to sit down. The demands for my time and attention have been tremendous.

I haven't blogged in ages. I spend countless hours at work. I try to fit friend and family in as best as I can. My head spins at what is on my plate now; what I have to accomplish, how little time there actually is to do it. It is dizzying.

And the prize at the end of the road - the opporunity of a lifetime? A second chance to make the right choices? What are the choices; what is the true prize?

My mind races when I consider what I have now and what the future could potentially hold. I wake up, I make it to the gym, I work hard, and I can barely keep my eyes open before I get home at the end of the day.

As exhausted as I am, I find myself continuously thinking... like a good tale, marveling at how it is all unfolding...

In the center of the commotion, I can't help but to speculate on the future. I can see the cast of new characters and interesting locales, but I can't figure out where it's going yet. I find myself struggling; deep in thought trying to figure what is in the narrative ahead. Of course the storyline isn't clear yet... so I can do nothing but speculate at what plot twists and turns will be revealed in the next chapter. Unexpected? Obvious? Predictible? Wondrous?

And as I continue to turn the pages at a breakneck pace, I consider how it's unfolded so far. And ultimately, how I will apply the lessons I've learned from my past to the unwritten pages of the future.

Ah, the past.

Just thinking about it makes me shudder.

It amazes me how quickly it all turns around. I've spent a great deal of time lately thinking about just that. And it's not like I've had a whole lotta spare time on my hands lately either...

So the story goes: "what a difference a year can make." Looking back, a year ago I couldn't see a future. I wondered how I could possibly go on. In those dark times, it seemed like there was no reason to keep trying. Each time the I thought that the storm was finally coming to an end, I found myself in the temporary calm of the eye. Over and over again I battled... and I wasn't sure I was going to survive.

Dramatic?

Hell ya. What's a good life tragedy without a little drama? It's what keeps the pages turning... what's gonna happen next?

Turn the page.

So starts a new chapter.

Just a few pages in, it's evident that as much as our hero was tested up to the limits of strength in the preceding chapter, this one opens in a hectic, but upbeat way.

The sun shines brightly, a salubrious and fast paced start. A new job, a new challenge, a new locale, a new life, a new cast of characters, a new body, a bright smile, an opportunity to refresh and renew.

Rennaissance?

A boy...

the new job....

I've officially completed my first full week on the new job... Yikes! I knew it was gonna be alot of work, but this is almost insane! In terms of structure, there is very little; processes in place, none.

I guess that isn't such a bad thing. It means that no matter what I do will make an impact.

I'm told the "impact" will be the most important part... If I can find enough ways to save the company money, it will positively effect my ability to "move" within the company.

And THAT is a good thing. (I think)

Grandma versus Business

My grandma lives in a different city. I don't see her as much as I should. I definitely don't call her enough. Life gets in the way sometimes. It's ok; she understands. The time we do spend together is often quality. She chatters and talks -- on the surface, it really does seem like whimsicle folly. Overall, topic of the day never seems particularly important.

So how she does it, I don't know. She always manages to wrap something good in the middle of converation without me ever really noticing. Her words often get me thinking. The thoughts she leaves me with are ultimately applied to the "issue of the day". I frequently wonder if she actually plans her words of wisdom or if it just coincidence that they always somehow show up at the most relevant times.

I dunno.

As I get older, I think about the things Grandma taught me when I was a kid.... I got into a fight with the kids in school and came home crying, she knew what to say to make me feel better. Homework was too tough, she encouraged me. Relationships failing, somehow I always left her house feeling special. At her house, I expanded my pallette as she encouraged me to try to new foods, and as an extension she got me to be open to new life experiences. She often said "no negative thoughts" and encouraged me to look beyond the "human condition" to find something that makes me feel like it is all worth while.

Consequently, I am convinced that if more people thought like my grandmother, I would definitely be out of a job.

An unusual circumstance to be in, for sure.

Interestingly, I've heard many of grandma's philosophies repeated over and over again by the most important people in my life... and the most successful. Some know her well, many don't know her at all.

I listened to several folks in business talk this afternoon about how they were planning on getting the company out of a financial situation. There was a lot of talk about "dollars" and how they were going to save them to meet some financial goals. The bottom line dollar was obviously very important. In the short run, the plans seemed to have merit and would save the company some big bucks tomorrow, next week, and next month.

I wonder about the long term. Saving the dollar today, isn't necessarily the best way to build a fortune. Taking the dollar out today may cut the opportunity to look at the the cents of the business. The teaching, the learning, the opportunity to amass something sustainable that will keep the business viable instead of going the way of so many others before it. It occurs to me that if they applied some of Grandma's philosophies, they stand a good chance of making it successfully through the day, and also well into the very distant future.

Granted, Grandma didn't spend a lot of time counting dollars, but she did have a way with common "cents". Small pearls of wisdom that if added up, the "cents" they represented would be far more valuable than the obvious dollar.

Sometimes in business and in life, we focus only on the outcomes instead of why and how we got there and who was involved.

Whenever I came home with a dilemma, Grandma didn't necessarily solve my problem; she found a way to empower those around her to solve their own problem. She encouraged reflection about the "who's" and the "why's" and the little things that would cause a slow but permanent positive change.

Whether it was her intent or not, I took away from her the idea that BIG hairy noticible audacious "things" were hard to sustain, small stuff and small steps were the way to succeed. Many of her ideas went un-noticed to even the most critical eyes, until it was too late and positive change happened. Maybe she recognized that such large changes would be met with large resistance. Small changes add up over time.

You can save one dollar today and have a dollar tomorrow. Or you can keep adding up your cents indefinitely and eventually amass a fortune.

Hmmmm... tomorrow, I will encourage some business owners take a lesson from Grandma.

To Sing and Dance

Tonight, there was some singing. Bashful at first, within a few minutes a natural confidence sparkled through. I smiled, I laughed in a way that made me feel warm within. I tapped my toes in delight. Then, I heard the words: "Because I knew you I have been changed for good." It came at sort of an unexpected moment. A downtrodden moment amidst a cheerful chorus.

It made me sad. Nostaglic. Like a dim candle flickering in dense fog, memories wafted through the haze of the light. I struggled to grasp onto just one or two. I tried to remember, but it just seemed so distant. Neither bad, nor good. It just was.

The indelible impression made apon my soul. A laugh, a smile, a tear. A hug and a few whispered words in the dark. Forever distorted, altered and changed.

Each time our lives intertwine in the dance, the actual essence of the psyche bends a little into a new variation of reality. A new magnificence emerges; going backward is not possible.

As quickly as those dimly lit thoughts came, they passed unremarkably back into obsurity.

At my request, the music turned suddenly upbeat. The chorus got louder and the smile returned full force to my face. My meloncholy moment temporarily forgotten; replaced with song and a bit of a dance.

But now I remember. It happened again in just one instant. "Because I knew you, I have been changed for good." The alteration of my soul was miniscule, at most. But it's the newest version of me. Enhanced. Improved.

And it will all happen again tomorrow.

I think of those who have I have known in the past that are gone forever - some amazing and some forgettable. I also think of those important people I know today, some who are still as extraordinary today as the minute we first glimpsed a look at each other.

Thank you. Good or bad, I am what I am today because of you.

tested... ok

Just a short one tonight....

I couldn't be more relieved.

I just got tested. I'm negative.

There is so much power behind those words. So much weight. Intensity.

........I will sleep well tonight.

The Twisted Mile

Twisting, turning, winding. I can't see ahead of me. I am only vaguely aware of the rocky path before me. Indistinct figures and shapes are on the periphery of my vision. I look hard, but I can't quite make out what's coming next.

I stumble, fall.

Another setback. It seems like the thousandth time. I don't want to get up again, but I force myself to stand.

At least this time I didn't get hurt. I take a deep breathe and look calmly around. Fortunately this time nobody saw me trip.

Good, I mutter to myself, I still have my dignity intact. I brush the dust and dirt off. One foot in front of the other and I start moving again.

The journey so far has been difficult. I don't specificially remember starting on it. I don't even remember having a choice. It was a long time ago.

I reflect on the twists and turns of the trail so far.

Fortunately, so many of my unpleasant memories have fogged to a haze of mostly pleasant thoughts and recollections. It just seemed so easy back then. It wasn't too long ago that I was moving very quickly; the path seemed clear and bright. I tumbled occationally then too. It just didn't seem like such a big deal.

I have to keep reminding myself that it certainly isn't the first time that I've had to slow down; to step back in order to find my way back to the right course.

I smile to myself now as a memory tugs at my mind. I recall how confident I was just a few years ago. Running full speed ahead, the sun shining brightly, the path seemed so clear.

I climbed on an old stone staircase. There were a thousand people around; I was dimly aware of them. I was only paying attention to the one person 10 feet in front of me, my travel companion at the time. I was just trying to keep up with him, taking two or three stairs at a time.

Somehow, I managed to fall over my own feet. I was horrified as I crashed loudly on the ground. I watched my companion turn around and conceal a smirk as I sat there on the stairs holding my knee and bleeding profusely. It hurt, but I wasn't about to admit that.

A helpful tourist wandering by offered me Purell. Like an idiot, I squeezed a dollup right on the gash in my knee. It stung like like a hundred bee stings.

I gasped. I was embarassed. I was surrounded by people and I wanted to cry. Instead, I gulped, gritted my teeth, and got up. I pretended like it was just a big joke.

Don't laugh... it hurt!

The destination that I travel to now? Well, I'm not entirely sure...

In my journey so far, I've traversed some of the most beautiful and delightful terrain as well as some of the most precarious and hazardous paths. I have had some wonderful experiences, and some terrible ones.

I have travelled with many people, some longer than others. I've loved, laughed, and learned. I've been hurt and beaten down. I've cried and ultimately recovered. I keep moving forward, dusting myself at each turn. Smiling.

I have a vague idea of how far I've come, but I can't accurately judge how much farther I've got to go. I'm sure I'd even want to. I know I'm probably not close at all... In fact, I'm reasonably sure I have not even crossed the half-way point.

I don't regret any of the choices I've made on my journey so far. Perhaps I would have made different turns; done things differently. I don't know.

The only certainty that I have now is that both good and bad, I will continue moving forward along the twisted mile.

For Sale

I don't know why it happened this morning, but I woke up nostalgic. There was nothing particularly remarkable that I can attribute to causing it. But, it was a good feeling.... like everything was right in the world. I smiled.

Even though it had been more than a year, it seemed so natural to resume my old routine... It was very early, even by the old military standards. I rolled out of bed and walked to the open window. The breeze coming through the screen was fresh. Still lost in a memory, I watched the sun rise for a minute.

I could hear the words echoing off the now silent walls. Hurry up, we can't waste the day. The familiar ritual seemed so natural, a frenzy of action. Dusting, cleaning, washing... all before the neighborhood even started to rise. The smells of oil soap and wood polish permeating the air.

Spotless.

Still lost in the fog of my reminiscence, I moved outside to wash the truck. Different from the ones in my nostaglia, but I washed the new truck with the same care and attention to detail as the previous ones.

As the truck got scrubbed inside and out, I could hear the metallic jingle of a dog collar behind me. I looked around expectantly, anticipating seeing her golden face smiling at me.

She wasn't there, of course. It was just a passerby with a poodle on the other side of the street.

Now, fully immersed in thoughts of long ago, I showered quickly. As if on queue, my stomach rumbled as I pulled on a shirt and shorts. I absently jumped in the truck and hardly noticed the passing streets on the short drive to the Diner.

As I walked through the door, I was greeted by familiar smells of breakfast. It wasn't quite the same, but I hardly noticed as I completed the familiar route to my table. I was absently disappointed to see new faces behind the counter.

A server that I knew stopped at my table to ask if I was ordering my "usual pancakes". Although I knew who she confused me for, I smiled politely at her and shook my head no.

Not today. I never ordered pancakes.

Breakfast arrived burned, the coffee was cold, and the waitress seemed to have forgotten me. I ate slowly. My nostalgia seemed to be developing some hairline cracks. It seemed... peculiar.

As I waited unendingly for the check, an uneasy feeling crept into my tummy. It might have been the not-quite-right eggs. Maybe not. I looked closer at my surroundings. The walls were painted a different color, the customers unrecognizable, the smell in the air was far greasier than I remembered.

It was getting remarkably harder to hold on to the memories that I had been enjoying just a few minutes previously. I felt them dissolving around me as the harsh reality crept in. Another flutter in my stomach made up my mind.

I wanted to see it.

Standing only two blocks away, it embodied the core of my growing melancholy. Over the years, I spent more time there than any place else. So much happened there....

I paid for my breakfast, tipped the waitress minimally for her dismal service and jumped in my truck. I was focused on one thing only, that I had to see it. I drove the two blocks carefully. I certainly didn't want any attention.

As I rounded the corner, it was immediately visible. I approached slowly, fighting off nausea. I wasn't so sure anymore that I should be there. My mind screamed at me to turn around but my hands stayed steady on the wheel. I saw it.

It looked vacant and run down. There was a sign firmly planted in the center of the lawn...

For Sale

The raw emotion was like electricity. The nostalgia was gone, replaced by a whole host of other emotions. Anger. Hurt. Relief. It will be gone, and presumably soon.

Sold to the highest bidder. Its contents reduced to mere curious salvage. And like the Diner, it will only be a shell of what it was in the past. Walls painted over, the counters replaced and new unfamiliar faces inside.

Bags of trash were already stacked up haphazardly and waiting to be taken away. I felt wounded; like I, too, had been placed on the corner, forgotten and meaningless. I pulled away from the curb and headed east into the morning sun, thoughts swirling through my mind.

Minutes later, I found myself in parked in my own driveway. My thoughts had been replaced by ethereal calm and on the day ahead of me. I left my memories of that different time on the curb of that old place with the other thoughtlessly discarded debris.

I am sure someone with a fresh perspective will buy it and whitewash over the traces of its previous existance. I hope they do.

As for me, I will not look back.

The Apology

The phone call was unpleasant and unwelcome. Shortly thereafter, the IM came as a bit of a surprise. When the text message came, I must admit I was feeling a bit out of sorts.

A line to apologize?

I was vindicated. For months I agonized. I knew I didn't do anything wrong. Yet still, I tortured myself; wondered just what I could have done that was so horrible.

I certainly had my theories... A third party perhaps? Jealousy at work? Worse?

However, it was not just one apology, but three. All from people that I once considered to be among my closest of friends.

Each situation was unique; each just as painful. Each apology left me both astonished and unsure as to how to proceed. Or if I even wanted to...

The phone call was prompted from an unpleasant text I received earlier in the day. I was in my office. I was expecting maybe an invitation to dinner for later that evening; sushi perhaps? We had only discussed it the night before.

I'm disappointed in you. U R loyal only when it's convenient for you. My body grew cold as I re-read the message. There was no warning, no preamble, just a series of groundless accusations.

A brief exhange of texts did nothing but leave me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a nauseated feeling in my gut. My hands started to shake as rage spread through out my body. I was accused, tried, and hung... through a text message. Heinous. I didn't even do it.

Lets talk this out later. The response a moment later was a short "ok".

When the hour came, instead of the calm talk I planned, the revoltion in my voice was palpable.

What the fuck? I started...

The conversation lasted for almost 30 minutes. In the end, the apology came. Of course I didn't do it... I never even thought about it. He said the matter was settled and he was happy we talked it out. While I quickly agreed, I considered the emotional hole left in my heart.

The IM later that night was even more surprising. Our association started several months prior as a promising friendship. Yes, it maybe went a bit too far. But I didn't see anyone complaining. It was fun. I knew what I was getting into, I was comfortable. He assured me that it was fine. The correspondence continued long after he left and our friendship developed.

Then it all stopped. We can't talk any more.

And that was it. No real explanation. All communication ended; the numbers changed, mail was returned undeliverable. Eventually, I gave up. Months later, he was forgotten.

The IM came in just as I was getting ready for bed.

I was hoping I'd see you here. I've been looking for you. I wanted to apologize. It was a shitty thing to do. Indignant memories flickered as I painstakingly considered my response. Ignore it? Reply? Evenually, I sent a message back. He was in town; it was his last night. He wanted to explain.

Want to grab a beer so we can talk? I agreed to the drink. Why? I don't know. I met him at a local pub an hour later. I was skeptical. The curiousity was killing me.

A bottle of wine sat in between us; his words were deliberate. Even thought I didn't like the explanation, in the end it made sense. He apologized a dozen times. It seemed genuine. I have been fooled before. Glad to have resolution, I was still unclear as to the overall motivation.

The bolt from the blue, however, came the following night. The text message. It was a number I didn't recognize. I deleted it out of my phone a year previously. I reluctantly forgot about its owner. I was certain that I'd never hear from him again.

I wanted to say sorry for the way I treated you.

One of the most distant and painful memories brought back the surface... A friend stuck in between two former lovers. The fight was resentful. The end was bitter. I didn't intend for him to be there. I tried to respect his position in the middle. I thought I was doing a decent job. Apparently I wasn't. Although, I never thought anything I did was the real reason why he moved out of the middle.

Several messages back and forth revealed that he'd kept up with my life. Several more messages and we were chatting like old friends at a high school reunion.

Cautiously, I proceed. He never did reveal why he choose a side or what prompted the sudden apology. He danced over the issue and moved forward.

Does it really matter?

Maybe. There are many reasons to apologize. Sincerity. To bury the hatchet. To acknowledge one's mistakes.

To relieve guilt.

I am left to wonder about the movation and the timing. Why now? Coincidence? New knowledge?

Long ago, I patched over the holes in my soul; forced myself to stop replaying the final moments looking for the fatal mistake. I sealed the memories away. Each of the conversations brought the incidents back to the surface. The apologies left me feeling exonerated.

I have forgiven each of them. Maybe in time, I'll even forget...

Alone...

He walks out of the crowded bar. Alone. He shivers a bit as he breathes in the cool humid air. It's dark outside. It rained most of the evening; the sidewalk is an obstacle course of earthworms and water-filled potholes. He sidesteps around them and makes his way to the dark lot. The light from an old lamp post glints dimly off soaked windshields and lifeless headlights.

He walks cautiously to his car; nods at another driver who just pulled in. As he unlocks his car door, he reflects on the events of the past few hours.

It had been a masterpiece of conversation, well placed laughs, and furtive glances around the room.

From the moment he walked through the door, a faction of loosely acquainted people coalesce around him. The bartender acknowledges him with a brief wave and a quick grin. He has only been in the door for a few seconds, but the competition for his attention is already impressive.

He smiles, clearly enjoying himself. It is a familiar ritual. He looks around the room, the bar had a stylish and sophisticated feel. He spots his friends a only a dozen steps away; separated, however, by a substantial crowd. It will be at least a few minutes before he can join them. No matter, the evening was young and they have plenty of time.

Before he knew it, he had a drink in his hand and a second one had already been offered. He was an expert at managing several conversations at once while greeting others and shaking hands. It was a talent he acquired with many years of practice. Tonight was unlike any other. He approaches each acquaintance as if they had been close friends for years. And with rapt attention, most reciprocate the treatment.

More than once he felt a tap on his shoulder from someone growing impatient with anticipation of approaching dialogue. He politely moves to the next conversation, all the while moving a step at a time closer to his friends. He glances in his friends' direction. They smile knowingly. They expected the slow approach, it was the same every time.

He finally arrives, a fresh drink in his hand. He greets his friends warmly with hugs. The banter between them begins immediately. They trade stories of the events occurring over the last week. He's known them for a long time; knows just what to say to bring them to laughter.

He is skillful in keeping the words flowing. In reality, however, he is not closely paying attention to the course of the conversation. He has other thoughts occupying his mind.

Lately, to him the world seems like nothing more than a stage and life feels like an elaborate performance. The conversations have become just words spoken perfectly on cue. And the responses are just reflexive from years of "rehearsal".

That "performance", in fact, is precisely what his mind is racing about.

As he chats with his friends, he looks at them closely. He watches their movements and watches how they interact with one another. Sideways glances, quick touches, flickering eye contact. They are clearly lovers. It seems that they are intensely aware of each other.

He steals another quick look around the room. He notices similar interactions amongst many pairs. Some are lovers, but most of them are not.

He considers that he is surrounded by groups people -- most he knows by name. He's already had dozens of conversations tonight. However, he feels unfulfilled and alone. It seems unbelievable that he is so well known and in spite of that, still he feels a dull ache in his soul.

He is often surprised that in a room full of people, he does not share that particular bond with anyone. He is acutely aware that as soon as he walks out the door, his whole presence will most likely be forgotten. Like the empty bottle he has in his hand, he will not be thought of again.

At least not until next time when he repeats the whole scene over again... like a performance.

He keeps those innermost thoughts well hidden from everyone, including his friends, that his heart aches as he yearns for something more fulfilling. The masterpiece of conversation, laugher, and jokes is just not enough.

He knows that there must be something more. There has to be something more.

As the evening winds down, he grabs his coat and prepares his exit. Hugs, handshakes and smiles to many around the room. He walks out the door.

Alone...

His car door unlocked, he climbs in behind the wheel. As he considers the events of the evening, he turns the ignition. The vehicle roars to life.

He picks up his cell phone, punches in a few numbers as he puts the car into gear.

"Hello?" he hears over the speaker.

That one word was all it took. His heart and soul begin to warm as he knows that he is not alone.

An Elevated Experience

I was already late.

I managed to catch every stoplight on the way there. I parked the car in a rush.

The sun was shining brightly. I passed several people in the lot as I hustled toward the building.

Nobody made eye contact. Nobody even looked at me. Some were intently gazing straight ahead, others staring at the ground. One was talking on her phone and another was fumbling with a stylus on a PDA pad.

I lamented on our seemingly devolving society as I darted thought the main entrance toward the elevators. Narcissism and self absorption have become the norm.

The elevator door started to close; I ran quickly toward it.

Hold the door.

I could see two men inside the elevator car.

One was furiously typing some incredibly important secrets of the universe on his handheld. He was jabbing the keys frantically and his expression was sour.

The other was kneeling on the floor ruffling through his black laptop bag. His head was cocked sideways as he fingered through each document laying inside his bag, carefully examining each one before he moved to the next.

Neither man looked up. Neither man moved. Not a single inch.

I reached the elevator just in time. The door made a harsh grating noise as it jerked back open and allowed me to to pass.

I practically jumped through, apparently startling the Mad Texter. His head jerked up; his expression morphed from simply sour to sheer acid as he looked at me. Apparently I'd interrupted his digital conversation. His gaze at me didn't last long. His handheld vibrated and his attention promptly returned to the device.

The Paper Shuffler didn't look up at all. He grunted at the document he was looking at and grabbed for the next. As for my entrance, apparently he hadn't even noticed that I had stepped onto the elevator.

I looked at the panel. Curiously, none of the buttons were lit. Still slightly out of breath, I pushed the button for my floor.

I looked at the men standing on either side of me and considered letting them in on the fact that they hadn't selected their floor. It was at that moment that Paper Shuffler found the document he was looking for, grumbled, and got to his feet. He muttered to himself as he searched for something in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a pen and started scrawling on the paper.

The doors to the elevator closed and we started to ascend.

I looked closely at both men. I was not entirely sure either man was aware I had joined them. Again, I considered apathy and the downfall of our society.

I decided to remain silent. Apathy, be damned. My elevator companions could figure out their own travel paths with out my involvement.

When the doors opened on my floor, I exited without saying a word. I heard the door close behind me. I chuckled as I tried to guess how long it would be before the two men realized what happened.

Considering Five

I can feel the brilliant sun's warmth on my back. The sky is unblemished; colors of the trees are marvelous. The fall air is crisp and clean; invigorating the senses.

The milestone is clearly in sight. It's been five full years since I started on this particular path. At the onset, the work was exhausting, costly, and time consuming. Not unlike the economy, there have been some dramatic ups and down; moments of breakneck speed, unending misery.

I reflect on the passage. Over time, plenty has changed.

I have changed.

Everyday, I overhear bits of familiar conversations; recognizable voices sound out with enthusiasm, trepidation. Surely our paths have crossed before.... some may have even traveled with me over the years. The journey itself is different for each of us. The eventual starting point, however, is familiar to me.

I was there.

I smile to myself now as memories tug at my mind; how outwardly confident I was just a few years ago. I knew I could get the work done. It didn't matter that I didn't know how.

I wanted it; that should have been enough. Inwardly, though, I questioned myself.

What was I getting myself in to? Was it too soon?

I asked questions. I got dirty. I hurt myself. I got stitched, bandaged, and sent back. At the end of the day, I was ultimately proud of my accomplishments. The cycle repeated for months. In time, it came together.

It was tough. Change is always tough.

It's totally different now. Certainly it's recognizable on the outside. Pedestrians wouldn't notice too many outward changes. To those on the inside... well, you have to look close to find something untouched by time, taste, or experience. I'm proud of the end result.

As much as it changed, I can't help but to think I changed more.

Different? Yes. But even then it still remains one of the few constants on my journey so far. Immobile. Comfortable. Predictable.

Similarly, my own outward appearance has not changed much over the last 5 years. Passersby might not notice those differences either.

Inwardly, the changes have been gratuitous. There have been some dramatic highs and lows there, too. I've asked lots of questions, sometimes stumbled when the answers weren't what I wanted to hear. I've slipped and hurt myself. I've been hurt. I've gotten stitches and bandages. And I've patched up my heart. I kept going back. Sometimes foolishly.

Change is tough. I like to think it was all worth it; I'm stronger now.

But worth it or not, in the end, I'm pretty proud of what I've become, too.

Not THAT Guy?

We all have our little secrets or corks, our “closed doors” personalities. You know the one that never comes out except behind closed doors. I use to be that person….”Me”, that is. I use to know who I was and what I wanted. These past few years have had a ton of ups and downs . How can I express to you how sad and empty I feel, without coming a crossed as desperate, or having a pity party? Is there a trick? Ever been at a place where everything you had, everything you have wanted to be was just erased? How do people deal with these kinds of trials? I am sure that the fact that I cry at everything, feel lonely and miserable, and want to fast forward my life has nothing to do with the fact that

limited, unlimited?

Tonight, out on the street, out in the moonlight

Same place as your parents... what you grew up with... is it limiting? who is limiting? you? society? crave for more? or happy with what you are?

family reasons?
fear of the unknown...
fear that it wont live up to the expectations
how do you KNOW its better than what you already have?

Into the Somber Sky

I rush forward alone. It’s cold. The sky is ashen and bleak. I can feel the fine cold mist on my face falling from the sky. The ground is slick beneath my feet. I glance around and keep moving. I’m breathing hard; coughing on fumes and exhaust. My heart is pounding as I hurry to make the flight.

Another adventure.

Boarding pass in hand, I expect the perpetual delay at the security checkpoint. The air is stifling as I am herded with other passengers to the metal detectors. There is a bead of perspiration creeping down the face of the man next to me. Nobody looks happy.

Shoes off.

Coat off.

Belt off.

Laptop out.

Cell phones in the bucket.

Liquids clearly visible in a zip top bag.

Everything on the belt. There are no secrets here. I am being scrutinized and instructed to move.

Sir, step forward through the detector toward the agent.

Scandalously, I speed right through security as the man behind me gets stopped. Dumb luck. It happens that way sometimes. I gathered up my newly inspected belongings and hustled to the gate where boarding is already in progress.

I found my seat with minimal issue. An aisle seat; always the aisle. I got lucky again, no neighbor. I have the whole row to myself. I hear the captain’s voice booming overhead informing passengers to prepare to listen to the flight attendants safety instructions. As usual, I prepare to ignore them instead.

I stifle a yawn. The flight attendants’ arms begin to flail and long fingers point to various locations of the plane. I covertly slide my cell out of my pocket for one last text before departure. I love you. I’ll call you later. Send.

I settle back into my seat and close my eyes. I can feel my carry-on beneath my feet under the seat in front of me. I listen to the dull hum of the engines as the vibrations of the plane taxiing down the runway lull me toward imminent slumber.

Another adventure. Sigh. It is what I wanted, though.

A promise made to myself almost a year ago. I was determined to break the pattern. To forget. To start over. Experience the un-experienced.

It certainly has worked out that way.

Adventures under the burning sun in a scorched desert with a thousand blinking lights. Exploration of a rainy mountaintop, sleeping in a cabin filled with mud. Intense terror inspired by a coaster. Hiking the twisted trails of an astonishingly scenic gorge. Savoring a myriad of unfamiliar cultural events.

At a one of a kind sporting event, I dodged forceful snowflakes and subsequently fortified myself with bourbon to keep warm. I have experienced Southern Charm. I cheered at an electrifying championship game. I’ve glimpsed both natural wonders and astounding achievements of human engineering.

I have been asked a myriad of questions; one exceptionally significant. My answer was “yes”.

As a result, I’ve been booked, re-routed, delayed, upgraded, downgraded, and sent to the oddest of places… and some of the most fantastic. I’ve talked to hundreds of people; made friends with a few. I've heard dozens of marvelous stories.

The sights impressed me. The people have impressed me more.

As my jet soars off into the sky above the somber clouds, I smile.

My soul is alive.

The Pivotal Moment

At that particular moment, I danced as I never had before. Flashing lights, pulsing energy, sultry bodies in vigorous movement. Tick. I laughed. I hardly noticed it pass. For almost a year, similar pleasurable moments filled my days.

Flash. I was all alone. Depressed. Chilled. I sat in the dark, disheartened and despondent. I waited indifferently for the moment to pass. Tick. A tear tracked down my cheek as I slid into my cold bed with a shiver and tried to fall sleep. I was resigned to the acridness of melancholy moments that surely laid ahead. They spanned a year.

Flash. Rage coursed through my blood. I was engaged in a bitter confrontation; the "beginning of the end" as I came to knew it. Tick. The continued effect reflected throughout the year. Unusual hostility, sickness, pain, and tragedy surged.

Flash. I was surrounded by friends and acquaintances. Music and laughter pleasantly filled the air. I enthusiastically sipped a tall glass overfilled with fragrant champagne. As the moment approached, I passionately promised myself it would be the best yet. Tick. The ensuing year was filled with astonishing moments.

Flash. I was forced to cancel on the event I planned to attend. I laid on the couch in misery. I could barely move. Even the act of drinking water was enough to wear me out. I waited for the pain meds and the antibiotics to start working.

The moment is quickly approaching. On TV there are celebrations taking place from all over the world. I shiver and wrap myself tighter in the fleece blanket.

I worry. I think about the past. If history remains consistent, that particular split second in time when the moment passes will be captured and echoed throughout the next full year. I am concerned. Shortly, when it slips by I will be alone and dreadfully ill.

When the Pivotal Moment passes, will I be condemned to a year of misery? Impossible. Could a Pivotal Moment actually exist?

Pivotal or not, the moment gets dreadfully closer. In New York, the Clintons push the button; the Ball begins its famous descent through the frosty night. There is electric in the air at the anticipation mounts.

Tick. It passed.

Is the power of the moment a cosmic coincidence? Or some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy?

There is nothing to do but wait. Or is there?

Anatomy of an Eternity

The radiant sun shines through the large window. Children are in the street playing hockey and laughing in the cold air of the not-quite-spring morning. The neighbors across the street are sweeping the driveway for the first time since the snow melted. A woman in pink waves as she jogs by; a small dog keeps proper pace. By all accounts it looks like it can't possibly get better.

A stark contrast exists on the other side of the window. He sits at the table absently sipping coffee. He can't taste it. He can't stop thinking about it.

He feels his heart beat faster. Memories are racing through his brain.

"Why?" his mind screams as a whimper escapes his lips.

He feels his chest tighten; unimaginable weight compresses his lungs. He tries to suck in precious air.

He stares out the window unblinking, trying desperately to focus. The children children have stopped moving. A hockey puck was hovering just feet from the net. The neighbor froze mid-sweep. Floating dirt was suspended inches from the broom; each perfect swirl of dust preserved in motionless air.

He is suffocating. He can feel his oxygen deprived heart hammering as pain shoots deep through his eyes to the back of his head. Suddenly the sun is too bright; harsh spots fill his field of vision. He squeezes his eyes closed to shield against the feeling of a thousand needles converging on his retina.

The air in the house is crushing him. He tries harder to breathe but no precious air reaches his lungs. He can hear every panicked breath, every beat of his heart as oxygen deprived blood courses in his ears.

The coffee smells acrid as he slams his cup back on the table.

He can no longer hear the children laughing. Instead he hears a cacophony of familiar voices; bits of old conversations surface. He tries to make sense of them but he can't focus. His mind is racing in a myriad of different directions.

He hears a splash as loud as a crashing wave. He hand feels like it's on fire. He lifts his hand in front of his face; he can see every detail on the surface of his wet skin. He becomes abruptly aware of a burning stream of tears flowing freely down his face.

He jumps up. He barely notices the chair crashing backwards as it falls over. He can't breathe. His stomach rebels against his abrupt movement and he heaves dry air.

He looses his balance and begins to fall. Time moves agonizingly slow. His downward descent to the ground is filled with dread at the impending crash. He hears every heartbeat as ticking like a clock as he watches the ground rush up to meet him.

All at once he feels the excruciating pain ripping through his body. An explosion of whiteness blinds his vision for a horrifying moment. His heart is beating, trying escape from his chest. He can't move his limbs.

In terror, he forces himself to retreat into the blackness of his mind. Each moment is excruciating.

As he lays on the cold stone floor, his panic begins to subside. He can feel his breathing and heart rate slowly return to normal. The thunder of voices in his ears dissipate as his vision turns dark and then begins to clear.

He vaguely realizes that only a few moments passed in the space of what seemed like an eternity. He rubs his wet face, wishing he could brush away the uncertainly and bitter emptiness inside as easily as he wiped away the tears.

Sanity at the Edge

The day started out much like any other day. A bright beam of light streamed in through the slats covering the windows; its destination, as usual, was a spot on my head just above my left eye. I could feel the warm spring breeze flowing through the open window and over my body carrying the perfume of lilac. Birds were beginning their raucous spring dance in the branches just feet from my house.

Given that the day started out so painfully normal, I am more than a bit surprised to find myself in my current location – gazing down into the chasm from the very top of a five-hundred foot cliff.

Yes, the start of the day was the tediously the same as every day before it, with one major difference. My head was pounding as if my brain was trying to hammer itself free from the confines of my skull. It was the banality of the morning, and the throbbing of my head that fueled my unusual desire – to get away from it all.

Somehow, with the persistent thoughts of escape running through my mind, I managed to pull myself out of the bed, pull on a t-shirt and jeans.

Minutes later, I was in my truck headed in a generally northern direction. After miles of highway shot by my window, I glanced into the rearview mirror to see my scruffy face staring at me mocking my getaway. I smiled a big goofy grin back at it. Windows open and coffee in hand, I pushed the pedal harder intently leaving the ordinary morning miles behind me.

And somehow, I ended up here. The top of a rocky precipice.

I sat down on the edge, peering down over green-gray water crashing over jagged rocks. Even at five hundred feet up, the noise of the powerful river below was deafening as it flowed through the sun-drenched gorge beneath my vantage point.

I am not sure where I originally intended to end up that day. I just knew that there was a daunting task ahead of me. Befitting my dubious mood, I chose to abandon my truck in a small parking area just off the highway.

I hiked through the valley for an hour with no objective in mind. I knew I reached the destination when I gazed forward was astounded by the complex beauty as far as the eye could see. The first buds of spring were showing on the trees; shrill noises from woodland creatures rivaled the sound of the crashing water for my attention. A small snake moved over the ground and hid in a pile of last year’s fallen leaves.

In the distance, I could barely make out the form of fisherman standing knee deep in the river. His pole was arched severely as he reeled in his catch.

As I contemplated my own situation, my thoughts eventually turned to the reason I found myself there in the first place – the “Runaway.”

On that dark night several weeks ago, I was indeed the last person to whom he spoke. It was he who said “at some point or another, everyone thinks about running away, but who actually does it?” Hearing the words chilled me. Maybe he was on a precipice just like this one; on the brink of insanity as he considered how quickly his situation deteriorated. Except me, nobody knew the whole story.

I didn’t understand. How could I? He had gone through more in the last few months than most had gone through in a lifetime. But I was drawn in; affected more than I could ever dream possible. I wanted to help. I wanted to understand.

Knocking a few small rocks into the boiling water below, I looked farther over the edge. Mulling over the Runaway’s last words, I could almost feel the pain in his voice. Aspirations and dreams shattered, the situation is just too out of control.

The Runaway found himself on an edge – of sanity?

So, he did it; without a word to anyone, he packed up his truck in the middle of the night and just left it all behind.

The departure left me with a tremendous sense of failure and guilt. It is irrational, but I somehow felt responsible.

Abruptly, I pulled back from the edge of the cliff. After hours of gazing into the abyss, I suddenly found that “piece of me” that I had lost. The realization was as clear as the water below. I stopped blaming myself.

I knew the Runaway well enough to know that the plan was simply to put as much distance between himself and his troubles; to rationalize the state of his affairs. I can only hope that with every state line that the Runaway crosses, he finds those pieces of himself.

I picked up a small stone at my feet. As a reminder of my experience, I carved a few private words on the stump of a dead tree. I turned away from the spot and began my long hike back to my truck, and home.

Eventually, I intend to return… my secret sanity asylum at the top of a treacherous rock wall.

The Wanderer

There was a time in my life that I got paid very well to just listen. To simply pay attention. I have been asked lots of questions. I answer some of them. Sometimes, I just smile in understanding.

I am not any smarter than most, I've just lived through a lot. “Wisdom from experience,” they say.

I listen carefully. I tell a lot of stories. Sometimes I make people feel better; help them learn something new. I am not a therapist, although occasionally I feel like one.

As I trudged down the first hundred stairs descending into the gorge, it’s not like I saw many. The few that hiked by me didn’t utter a single word. In almost every case, my existence wasn’t even acknowledged as I squeezed by on the narrow trail.

The second hundred stairs past just as uneventfully. I was enjoying the relative isolation; the escape to the privacy of my mind, heart, and soul.

It wasn’t until I could start to hear the thunderous rushing of the river close to the three hundredth that I began to pick up bits and pieces of a conversation.

Do you know how much farther down? Asked a fresh faced, if not a bit overweight young man to a thin man with a gray beard.

The other hiker frowned and pointed his finger in the direction of the river. It’s not that much farther. I detected the unmistakable sound of irritation in his voice, as if the conversation had gone on far than he was willing to be involved.

It’s my first time here. Can you tell me what way I should –

I gotta go, kid. Have fun.

Without another word the gray bearded hiker turned and headed up the stairs passing me without making eye contact. I sort of felt bad for the kid. I was less than twenty feet away from him now.

I flirted with the idea of passing him full steam ahead to avoid any exchange. After all, the sole reason I was here today was to enjoy solitude in my secret place that I discovered a few months back – a sheer rock cliff a few hundred feet off the trail where at the bottom the roaring river surged through the gorge. Another 20 minutes of hiking and I would be in that special secluded spot.

I eventually succumbed to the pained look on his face. I made eye contact and said hello. I hoped to pass by without further dialogue, but somehow I knew that outcome wasn’t part of my destiny today.

It’s my first time here. It’s really beautiful…

He fell in step with me and together we descended the remaining seventy steps to the bottom. He asked me lots of questions about the trail and gorge to which I gave short but accurate answers. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I still hoped that when we reached the bottom, he would take his leave and I would still be able to salvage my private retreat.

Instead, his pace and direction synched with mine. It appeared that whether or not I wanted it, I had a companion on my journey today.

So much for solitude.

While I didn’t much feel like chatting, I couldn’t help to notice that this man had a lot on his mind.

So, I listened.

Admittedly, not very carefully at the beginning. But as his story developed, so did my interest. Over the next several miles, I learned more about this wanderer. He was 18 and fresh out of high school. He had recently been accepted to the local community college. He was interested in science, but decided on taking liberal arts classes. Both of his parents had some sort of disability; he cared for them and tried to contribute to the household income. He didn’t have many friends. He wanted to experience life. He was scared about the future.

As he admitted his fears, it almost seemed like confession of his soul; his deep dark secret that he just wanted to get out in the open.

For the first time I actually looked right at him. He seemed almost relieved. As if he was afraid that somehow I would disapprove.

Sometimes I think a person just needs someone to tell them it will be okay. So, I did just that. He actually smiled.

When we finally completed the round trip of the trail, I sat down for a brief rest before climbing back up the 370 stairs. I assumed he would turn around with me and head back. I was surprised when he said that he finally felt great and wanted to continue exploring in the opposite direction.

With my foot on the first stair, I heard him shout. Hey, by the way, thanks for listening!

I had to smile; I hadn’t even learned the kid’s name. I didn’t get the solitude that I had in mind and I a bit surprised that I wasn’t in the least bit disappointed. Yes, somehow my mind felt clear, and I was content knowing that the young wanderer no longer seemed so lost.

family

What defines a family? We share our lives together! You share a house together.

I look at the departures board. I could get lost here. I could vanish. I could board a plane and disappear… and no one here would notice. After I left, someone else would take my seat as if I never existed in the first place.

That was, in fact, my plan. To quietly disappear.

I am haunted by the memories of this place. I watch travelers pass by me intently headed to and from exotic locales. Rolling luggage trailing behind them; each is lost in their own world. An infant is screaming in the distance.

Even though it had been many months since my last pass through here, I am sitting in my “usual” seat near the gate. A tasteless large woman in an equally tasteless pink shirt is squeezed into the seat next to me. I listen to her speaking some foreign language into her cell phone very loudly; her words punctuated as if with a shotgun. I feel violated by the intrusion. She leers at me disapprovingly. I grimace as I change seats.

The distinct smell of fried food is assaulting my nose causing my stomach to rumble in tumultuous rebellion. I realize that it’s been hours since I last ate. I get up again to escape the sickening scent. I can’t even remember the last time I ate… I have lost more weight than I care to discuss.

I always seem to have something on my mind when I’m here. This particular moment was yet another one of those times. The situation was remarkably different, but the emotions were eerily similar.

I am taken aback as a man wearing a tattered orange baseball cap walked in front of me. It couldn't be him. He’s been gone for too long. Regardless, my heart starts beating a painful hollow rhythm in my chest as ghosts from the past suddenly flash into focus.

I am convinced that the ghosts live here now, visible only to me.  I'm getting used to it.  It happens entirely too often.

I am thoroughly preoccupied by my melancholy recollections as the young, well-dressed stranger sits down next to me. I barely notice him.  I didn't want to notice anything.

Do you have a cell phone charger?

I barely heard the words. I certainly couldn't comprehend what was being asked of me. The sound of my own mental reverie was like cotton in my ears, muffling the outside world.

I sort of hoped that if I didn't respond, the interruption would just go away like an ignored call goes to voicemail.

No such luck. I looked to my right; the young stranger was staring at me expectantly. I looked into his eyes and realized with absolute certainly that I could not ignore him. His bright green eyes seemed to look right into my soul.

Uhm, yes. It’s around here somewhere… I fumbled over my words as I clumsily searched through my bag. I was transfixed by his eyes.

He gave me a slightly crooked smile as I handed over the charger. His eyes remained locked on mine. His gaze made me feel exposed, like I had somehow been caught.  Caught doing what, though, I had no idea.

After what seem like an eternity, he broke off his gaze. His whole demeanor shifted as he looked down to plug in his cell phone. I watched a teardrop form in the corner of his eye and slowly make its way down his cheek.

You don’t recognize me. We've met before, you know… right here in this spot.

Surely there was some mistake.  Of course, there was a mistake.  I could only stare at him.  His face.

This is where we met... so many years ago.