wake up, set the sun on fire
it's time to go out again out into the bright darkness of the world. slip your scarred skin, like armor forged from all the bled-letting of love's embrace, carefully over the tender bones. make up your best face, the one with a hint of indifference and interest mixed in equal part to hold on the cut-out smile. advertise yourself - here is a heart ready again for anguish and despair - make yourself known in all the right circles. open the door, put a foot in front of the other it's time to go out again out into the darkly lit brightness of her world. For me, no distance measured in miles, time or spirit would ever take me away from Andy. That day when she had emerged from the balloons, my heart knew where it belonged. As I shuffled from foot to foot waiting for the much anticipated reunion, I bought a balloon, all part of my grand plan.
I worked my way over to an empty spot on boardwalk and carefully looped the balloon's string through the hole in a small but flawless diamond ring. All through college, I had given up on parties, booze and frivolous expense. Every spare dime had ended up in the diamond fund. The result now hung from a lime green balloon that bobbed playfully in the wind. Then, there she strolled, down the boardwalk, like a model on the catwalk. I could barely keep my heart from escaping my chest and nearly lost the balloon and its prize. "Hello, beautiful," I managed with a smile. She smiled back, and in the replay, I saw what I had missed before. The unease in the smile. The reserved air. The way she kept her body at a remove, distanced from me. "We need to talk," she said, motioning to a deserted bench near the end of the boardwalk. The old heart in my chest crumpled because we knew the outcome, but then I had actually thought how wonderful, secluded it would calm my nerves to ask the most important question of my life. She ignored my attempt to take her hand and marched to the lonely bench. I sat, but she didn't. "I'm sorry," she began. "Whatever for?" "I've met someone. We didn't mean for it to happen, but . . .. well you see, he's a lawyer, probably going to be a senator one day and he already has a house that his parents bought just for him, well now for us. He asked. I said, 'yes.' You understand don't you?" I nodded my head, but I didn't understand anything, not at that second. The horrible moment of understanding would come, but in that second my mind refused to connect the dots. "You do?" She asked hopefully. I held out the balloon to her like some fool. Tears had started to stream down my cheeks, but I wasn't fully aware why even then. I watched as she took the balloon and noticed the small ring hanging from the end. I also noticed the huge ring already in the spot where my small offering would have rested. How could I have missed that all those years ago? "Oh, no, no, I'm so sorry, but I can't take this, not now." Her face had turned red. I didn't say a word, but I rose and walked away, out of her life, but all these years, I had never let her walk out of mine. I had rejected all others over the years, hoping she would come back to me. Now that she stood before me, I wondered what to do on the boardwalk. I've had a lot of "dream" jobs in my life. Things I wanted to do and
pursue. Like most people, I didn't fall into any of those "dream" jobs. I guess at some point you realize that you don't fall into the a job. If you really want it, you have to plan for it, go for it and put in the hard long hours to make it happen. Many of those jobs could still be attainable under the battle cry of "Never too old!" Today, I am looking back on a career that I wanted from the time I was very young and that has now raced beyond my reach. I have had a passion for horses ever since I can recall. I would say I was born with it though I am certain that some of those of a scientific background would argue against that notion. Growing up in West Texas in the 1970s, I had plenty of horses that I could see on drives around the countryside and was even lucky enough sometimes to convince my mother to take me to one of the small time tracks in the area. Horse racing was enjoying one of its golden ages at the time, and those fabulously fast horses became my favorites. The first one I remember was Seattle Slew. He was born the same year I was and had such a will to never let anyone else pass him. To this day, he is one of my favorite racehorses. The next year would bring the love of my horseracing life into my world - Alydar. With the love and admiration of these horses, I grew to want to be a jockey. To sit on the back of a horse that flew around a track, unfettered by the commands of gravity still appeals to me to this day. There are lots of "reasons" why I didn't pursue that path, but I've come to learn as I have gotten older that the only real reason was myself. I let all the doubts and fears of pursuing such a path drown that dream of mine. Yes, I could go back and try to make a go of it. I am not that old yet; I am small in stature and in great shape. A few years back, I was even going to try to get a job as an exercise rider with the ultimate goal of riding in races. However, having come to learn of my cervical spine issues and just having had a multi-level spinal fusion, I have come to put that particular dream to rest. I am thankful for the experiences I have had with horse while I do have that scar of regret that I didn't do more to become a jockey, as I dreamed of doing all those years ago. That small voice of childhood still whispers that it must be one of the finest ways to spend a life, soaking up the smells and sights of the magnificent horses who fly without wings. I have learned now to not take as much for granted, but most especially have learned to not let myself get in the way of those things I want to do in life. I have already lost too much, not just my chance at a dream career, when I have let myself get in the way of the things that would make me the happiest. I had come to the boardwalk since before I could walk. My mother would bundle up my sister and I and off we would go to the beach nearly every weekend of my youth. As a child, ventures to the boardwalk only happened when she wanted something there, but as we grew up, she let us go more and more together and then on our own. The beach could relax you, but the boardwalk held the real excitement. From the dancing lights to the magical music, I fell for the boardwalk's charms hard. I never imagined I could love anything more than the boardwalk until I met her. I sat that day when she found me on a bench sucking down the remnants of a rapidly dissolving purple sno-cone. She deftly parted a nebula of dancing balloons and stepped into my stratosphere. Gravity pulled me to those piercing green eyes and something in my young heart told me that life would never be the same. What was left of the sno-cone fell to the ground, one more forgotten casualty of lost childhood. "Hi, I'm Andy, short for Andrea." She thrust her had in my face, and I recall sitting there like a mute. I could hear her asking if I had a name and looking more puzzled. I shared her confusion because I had never had trouble talking. Friendship started that day on the boardwalk, after I found my tongue, of course, and eventually, it would blossom into full-blown romance, with stolen kisses and fervent promises uttered on steamy nights as we strolled hand-in-hand on the boardwalk. Whisked away from those mostly happy moments, my mind showed me our final meeting on the boardwalk. Each of us unaware of what the other had in mind during that reunion meeting. Both of us had been away at colleges hundreds of miles apart. Her hair once a red-gold that I could only call chestnut had turned the silvery-blonde that those with red hair always seemed to chose in defiance of the white that touched most of us. Wrinkles mapped the life she had led since we had last stood on this boardwalk when she told me that she was not happy and that she was leaving me with an empty apartment and a useless ring in my pocket.
Of all my memories on the boardwalk, those belonging to her kept me coming back. As fast as a speeding bullet, as fast as an airbag springs to save a life, as fast as a jet pierces the sky, a single memory of us unfolded. Of all the ones to select, my mind made the easiest association. Fifteen years old. Is there ever a more perfect and dreadful time of life? How long does it take a memory to unfurl in the breeze of the mind and take flight to full-blown escape?
I felt eyes on me, pulling me from the past into the present, just a sad old person sitting on a boardwalk bench trying to remember what life used to taste like when the flavors used to be sweeter. I glanced around searching for whose eyes would guiltily flee mine when they realized I knew they were staring. Still I saw no one, but my eyes settled on the balloon man's corner. Something had changed there, something was not like it usually was. It took a second or two before my mind puzzled out the problem. A child of four would have found it faster, their neurons firing at speeds a fighter jet couldn't match, but when you are old, nothing moves fast. A pair of feet peeked out from the mass of the balloons that were no longer tethered to the balloon man's stand. Presumably, the feet attached to a body that also attached to hands, the very hands that held the balloons captive. I had a moment of déjà vu, indescribable awareness that I had experienced this before, not exactly, but close enough. It could come, but those messengers in my mind fired as fast as they could without causing an overload They left me to stare in stupefied wonder at the dancing balls of red, green, blue and yellow. The breeze played with them, taunting me to remember the day, the place and the name. The scene rolled out in slow motion only for me. The hand released the hold on the strings. Andy The name appeared in my mind, and odd assortment of emotions drummed up at the name, and as the balloons lifted off to heavenly heights, the woman attached to the name stood before me. I could smell the sweet scents of cotton candy mingling with the friend foods that represented Summer, fun, youth and all the possibilities that life could offer. The boardwalk rippled in the heat, sending out a faint scent of baking wood. Those around me barely noticed that odor, as they dashed from spot to spot, laughing at one another and believing in the infinite possibilities of life.
Like the scent of the wood, I remained out of place, to the side, unnoticed. The boardwalk, like all that Summer brings, belonged to youth. The rest of us were just witnesses to the unfolding drama of the journey of life. Any one of those children, stepping fast to avoid the burn of the hot boards, could have been me, not so long before. The boardwalk held many memories of the best times of my life. Retired, alone except for my regrets, I spent my Summer days and into the nights sitting there. While those around me were busy building their memories, I sat there replaying mine. |
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