Jack had finally achieved one of the goals that he'd set before himself. While he knew that it would be some time before all of his other plans would come to fruition, his dream job was now in his grasp. It was a victory in many ways, but for Jack, it felt hollow.
Something, someone was missing.
He sat down on a creaky old chair with pen and notebook in hand. The dim light of the fading sun seemed a good metaphor for the way he felt right now. Bright still, but growing dark. He crossed on leg over the other and began to write a letter. It was a letter he knew he would never send.
Dear Anne,
I miss you. I've worked so hard to get where I am now and I know that I owe a lot of it to you. Had you never said goodbye, I might not be here now.
I got my dream job. I'm happy, but the fires of joy can't seem to ignite inside of me. My heart fails to burn with passion, even for this. I guess that I've shed too many tears; my heart must be water-logged. There is no blaze, not even an ember.
Silly, I know. It's been so long...
I'm looking at land now, someplace that I can build a home. You wouldn't believe the deals out here, though since there is virtually nothing but shrubs, trees, desert and mountains, maybe you could. I don't know if you'd love it the way I do, or see it as I see it. I know that you wouldn't want to be here with me, so far away from the people and things that you love.
It's difficult for me to be here, too. Because the people that I love are so far away I find myself being in two places at once. I feel insane for having these kinds of thoughts and emotions, but maybe that's what my love for you has always been - a bit of madness anchored by the reality that I could be loved by someone...like you.
Or maybe the madness is holding onto something that has long since gone, or perhaps was never there to begin with.
I have no way of knowing these things. All I know is this - when I'm standing outside in the chill mountain air, seeing my breath as I look upon the sky, I think of you and hope that we're sharing something even at such a great distance. When I'm gazing at the moon and the stars, I hope that you are too, and that somehow by some magic of reflection and refraction, I'm seeing you again.
And when I smile at the sight of the infinite sky, I'm smiling as though I'm gazing into the infinite depths that are your eyes...and that somehow you know that no matter what happens, no matter how far away you are and no matter what life might throw at you, when you look up at the sky you'll always be reminded that I love you and will until all those stars are gone.
Jack paused a moment, thinking of how completely inept his words were and how sappy he must sound. He smiled to himself as he read what he'd written so far. His eyes had begun to water a bit and with a small laugh and a shake of his head he tore the letter from his notebook. He crumbled it up and threw it in the trash.
Just another letter, never to be read.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Home Is When I Dream of You
And though I walk with mother earth through her green mountains
though the chill wind kisses my lips like a lover
though I am caressed by the warm arms of the sun in clear blue skies
though I am free to run my hands down the red rocked cheeks of canyons
though the fragrant wild flowers and mountain air make me drunk with delight
I am not home
My heart is...
...where I walk with her hand in mine
...where I kiss her cool lips on a winters day
...where I am held in her gentle arms and know I'll be fine
...where my fingers gently trace the outline of her rose colored cheek
...where breathing her scent is more intoxicating than all the world's opiates
My home is not here. My heart is lost...
...to a dream that will never be.
though the chill wind kisses my lips like a lover
though I am caressed by the warm arms of the sun in clear blue skies
though I am free to run my hands down the red rocked cheeks of canyons
though the fragrant wild flowers and mountain air make me drunk with delight
I am not home
My heart is...
...where I walk with her hand in mine
...where I kiss her cool lips on a winters day
...where I am held in her gentle arms and know I'll be fine
...where my fingers gently trace the outline of her rose colored cheek
...where breathing her scent is more intoxicating than all the world's opiates
My home is not here. My heart is lost...
...to a dream that will never be.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Adam Can't Fly
Adam stood staring out the window from his sixth floor room at the Fremont Hotel. Looking down at the people scurrying about downtown Las Vegas, amid the noise and the lights, made him think of a story someone had told him.
***
Years ago, there was a young man who had fallen in love with his best friend. He hadn't meant for it to start out that way, but they spent so much time together. It was bound to happen.
Sometimes they would laugh and play at a park. At other times, they would just go out for moonlit walks along a quiet trail. A few times, she had even taken him to a place that she loved deeply; it was where she had grown up.
Regardless of where they went, always there was conversation mixed with laughter mixed with smiles and comfortable silences. They never held hands. They never sat too close. It was a subtle sign that they were beginning to fall in love.
And love makes you do the darnedest things. It makes dreamers of realists. It inspires poetry from even the worst writer. And it makes wise men seem foolish.
"Someday," the young man had said to her. "I will buy your old home for you and we can raise a family together."
She smiled like the sun and he felt warmed. She went dreamy eyed and imagined how it would be and she was pleased.
"Someday," the young man had said to her. "We will travel around the world together and we'll be married at an old castle in Scotland."
She loved him for that and thought of what her wedding day would look like. She was pleased.
But the young man, no matter how much he loved her, wasn't ready for any of that. They spent years together, and while they cared deeply for one another, he could never seem to get things right.
He would make bad decisions in the hopes that he could fulfill her dreams, and therefore, his own. He would get caught up in a new scheme that promised to make him a fortune easily, only to realize that it wasn't right for him and wouldn't give him all the time he wanted to take her on trips around the world. He would try, again and again, but he always let her down.
He just wasn't ready.
***
Adam thought about the story he had heard while he stared out of the window. Looking down, he imagined all of the hopes and dreams that would rise and fall on Fremont Street tonight. It made him think about the point the story teller had been trying to make. He hadn't been very clear, so Adam had asked.
***
The young man loved her with all of his heart. When he was with her, he felt like he wanted to conquer the world. He wished he could bring her every happiness that she could possibly want.
And they should have been perfect together. They could have been. But he wasn't ready. It was the right thing...at the wrong time.
And the right thing at the wrong time is still the wrong thing.
***
Adam gave a brief snort of laughter. Man, that guy was a shitty storyteller. But he definitely had a point. He thought about it as he slid open his window.
As the cool night air kissed his face, he wondered what kind of hotel lets you completely open a sixth floor window. More to the point, a casino-hotel. It made no sense to him.
"So fucking stupid," he whispered to the empty room. "Makes no sense."
Adam looked at the happy people on the street. He saw drunks stumbling. He saw some people celebrating their good luck. Others, he saw, hadn't been so lucky. But that was Vegas for you.
And then he thought of her.
The right thing at the wrong time.
He inhaled the night air and exhaled slowly. He pictured her in his mind and held her there.
And then he jumped.
***
Years ago, there was a young man who had fallen in love with his best friend. He hadn't meant for it to start out that way, but they spent so much time together. It was bound to happen.
Sometimes they would laugh and play at a park. At other times, they would just go out for moonlit walks along a quiet trail. A few times, she had even taken him to a place that she loved deeply; it was where she had grown up.
Regardless of where they went, always there was conversation mixed with laughter mixed with smiles and comfortable silences. They never held hands. They never sat too close. It was a subtle sign that they were beginning to fall in love.
And love makes you do the darnedest things. It makes dreamers of realists. It inspires poetry from even the worst writer. And it makes wise men seem foolish.
"Someday," the young man had said to her. "I will buy your old home for you and we can raise a family together."
She smiled like the sun and he felt warmed. She went dreamy eyed and imagined how it would be and she was pleased.
"Someday," the young man had said to her. "We will travel around the world together and we'll be married at an old castle in Scotland."
She loved him for that and thought of what her wedding day would look like. She was pleased.
But the young man, no matter how much he loved her, wasn't ready for any of that. They spent years together, and while they cared deeply for one another, he could never seem to get things right.
He would make bad decisions in the hopes that he could fulfill her dreams, and therefore, his own. He would get caught up in a new scheme that promised to make him a fortune easily, only to realize that it wasn't right for him and wouldn't give him all the time he wanted to take her on trips around the world. He would try, again and again, but he always let her down.
He just wasn't ready.
***
Adam thought about the story he had heard while he stared out of the window. Looking down, he imagined all of the hopes and dreams that would rise and fall on Fremont Street tonight. It made him think about the point the story teller had been trying to make. He hadn't been very clear, so Adam had asked.
***
The young man loved her with all of his heart. When he was with her, he felt like he wanted to conquer the world. He wished he could bring her every happiness that she could possibly want.
And they should have been perfect together. They could have been. But he wasn't ready. It was the right thing...at the wrong time.
And the right thing at the wrong time is still the wrong thing.
***
Adam gave a brief snort of laughter. Man, that guy was a shitty storyteller. But he definitely had a point. He thought about it as he slid open his window.
As the cool night air kissed his face, he wondered what kind of hotel lets you completely open a sixth floor window. More to the point, a casino-hotel. It made no sense to him.
"So fucking stupid," he whispered to the empty room. "Makes no sense."
Adam looked at the happy people on the street. He saw drunks stumbling. He saw some people celebrating their good luck. Others, he saw, hadn't been so lucky. But that was Vegas for you.
And then he thought of her.
The right thing at the wrong time.
He inhaled the night air and exhaled slowly. He pictured her in his mind and held her there.
And then he jumped.
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