onetwothreefour

It came back to me like a lightning bolt, like sitting around the little table we made for our dorm room, eating Raisin Bran and it still smelled like varnish. Like the summer in between semesters when I went in for a midnight shift with dad and Fran was working and we talked about philosophy and how good grilled cheese was with tomato soup and how there was a pregnant potentiality in the heavy, humid 3am summer air. Like being in Deadwood, SD with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah on the radio, espresso coarsing through the veins, like I was the only one in the entire world who wasn't a cardboard cut-out, walking down the street like Seth Bullock all 50 feet of me.

Unrestrained hope pouring out of my little-kid heart. There is nothing you can't do. I drive with the moonroof open at night so that I can see the stars when I look up.

It's in the black of his eyes, the untethered hand, the gold chain peeking out like a mid-life crisis. It's the 4am comraderie that I wish could somehow stretch out forever or at least until I get tired again. It's the drive home through cornfields and cow pastures with the sun coming up and most of the households still asleep. It is the fact that each and every moment is perfect and complete and there for the taking.

Don't go looking for what you already have.