Young Pilgrim

Some fond memories: Having a fake surprise birthday party at 5:30 AM in the Burnsville McDonalds.  Having your kids beat me in Wii bowling. 

Introducing your kids to Cooper and continually being afraid they were going to let go when they asked to hold his leash.

Scoring a hole in one on the 18th hole of CanCan and you not believing me so we ran down that long stretch to verify.

Getting that final text from you thanking us for playing Rocket League with your kids. “Holy shit you guys are awesome. The girls are loving this so much” One month later you would die.

The waves receding from the shore line were louder than ever in my ears. If there was a color to describe the scenery as, it would be a bland gray. Mist collected on my glasses as I sat on the wet stand, too far away to get wet from the sea, but still close enough to feel the effects of it on my clothes.

“Every single thing a person does, there is always a reason. Of course there is free will. Of course there is. There was never a chance otherwise.”

“What makes you say that? My friend got hit by a bus last year on their way to work. Did they choose to do that?”

“No of course not. But they chose to go to their job that day. You’re describing a coincidence, nothing more.”

I laid my back on the packed sand, not caring that it was getting colder by the minute. You can hear the faint sound of sea birds off in the distance. They distract me during the silent breaks of our conversation.

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Silence laid heavily over the people on the bus. I couldn’t find enough light to look at my watch, but if I had to guess I would say it was two in the morning.

I had just woken up from a fitful bout of sleep. I can never sleep comfortably when I’m away from home. You knew that though. You’re my inner voice.

We both looked out the window, at the landscape passing by at a leisurely pace. Where were we going? How long had we been on the bus? It didn’t matter much to me, but I know it did to you. You always get wrapped up in those types of details. The when, the where, and the how much were questions you always asked. I always made sure to ask why - that is what’s important to me. 

I got up to walk the aisle of the bus. I could only catch glimpses of the figures on the seats by the passing light from outside. However quick the glimpses were, I could make out who everyone was. I knew you could too. Everyone was there one might expect. The alternate realities every time you ask yourself ‘what if’, the conclusions you jump to when a loved one doesn’t pick up the phone, the voices you hear in your head. The whole gang was there. 

No matter what lens you look at me through, I will always be a person who isn’t quite sure what is the right thing to do.

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Every single part, of my aching bleeding heart died the day you got on that boat.