It was one of those nights. Those nights when you can’t sleep, those nights when all the thoughts in your head are on the verge of creating a headache. It was one of those nights.
So I pick up the cigar I bought to celebrate my graduation and attainment of my masters. I walked out the door, over to the Charles River and I was greeted with this…
A view of a city, my city. A city that has been the source of much joy, pain, struggles, accomplishments, and reflection. I light my cigar.
The first drag is long and full of fire. I notice how the night river serves as the best tool of reflection. Self-reflection. The questions all begin to rush out of my mind.
“Where do I go from here?” “How will I pay my June rent? July?”
“How do I process the greatest costs of attaining my masters… losing a friend.”
Not just any friend, but a friend who was apart of my phalanx.
Think about the friend you and your family have broken bread with at two Thanksgiving meals. A friend you now have everything to talk about with, but nothing to discuss. A friend who you should speak with in person, but has no desire to be in the same breathable space as you… Not even to salvage the phalanx.
“How do I process talking to a grandmother, the only grandparent I have left, who calls me her ‘special baby’, yet has not acted on her verbalized desires to attend my graduations… both undergrad and graduate?”
“How does a person, who is considered the most honest and open person around, share that he needs a few probing questions to share his heart?”
“How does a person speak of needs when all he can do is feel them… there are little words to express that.”
The cigar is about half-way done when I notice the duck walking along the dock. With one magical flap of her wings, the duck takes off down the river. I wonder what that duck was thinking? Could she be feeling the same way?
Words are so hard to find, yet each component of my lexicon is bursting from my mind. I do not share these words to seek any sympathy, but to subdue the headache that has been itching to come forth.
The sun is beginning to kiss the horizon, making it blush from surprised affection. I stare in awe.
This cigar was meant to be shared with the boys, but it was best to have it alone. This is the beginning of the longed reflection needed upon achieving a milestone. The miles are many, so I begin walking knowing I am not alone. I want to shout so many things, I want to feel fewer. This may be the true burden of wisdom: The more we know, the easier it is to look back, yet the harder it is to accept.
The cigar is down to it’s last enjoyment. I taste fire and breath out relief. Relief in knowing that each step I take, I have the love of my life holding my hand to help me make each one. I have my parents and sister to reinforce the faith I must live by. I have my close friends to give me that reassuring hand on my shoulders.
The walk back is unbalanced yet purposeful. I feel my home calling me.
I start writing this so I can lay next to her.
Then I post