Exit stage left
by shell
Chris left. The last I saw of him was a little Bugg nose hanging out the window of his car at the intersection at work before I turned and he drove on to find whatever happiness he is searching for closer to his family.
I had a brief moment of sadness, where the floor of my heart dropped out and shattered on the pavement of the parking lot as I walked away this morning. I use to hate those moments, the good byes. My mind always trips into surreal romance mode. I always hear “this is the part where…” and it usually involves the hero coming to his senses, sweeping the heroine off of her feet and the semblance of some sort of happily ever after. That moment use to tear me apart, but it’s just the after taste of a strong drink. It’s meant to be rolled across your tounge and savored, it’s meant to burn going down.
Today, as I drove lola over the bridge towards the beach, I realized: this was my life. No striving for something more, something else, something different. A third of my life belonged to me, the rest to my priorities. I can spend it how I want. Tonight, martinis on the beach and a show. Next week, a flight to Atlanta, after that I could hop a flight for anywhere. This is what I wanted back after all those years. I have my freedom.
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