The Moment

It was a brisk March morning. The sun peaked through the thick clouds and cast its rays on the sidewalk. Eli tapped his headphones and ambled forward. It was a gorgeous day out. A perfect day to end it all. The subtle sounds of SZA coaxed his feet into a Rhythm. A twenty-something listening to Twenty-Something, ironic. Idle thoughts crossed his mind as he entered Gladstone park. Eli was not depressed. Friends would likely describe him as happy or full of energy. Eli was tired. Eli was disappointed, in himself and the world by extension.

When he was a child, he was always told he had so much potential if just tried. Since then, those words haunted him. What if he was trying? What if his best just was not good enough? Eli was tired. Eli was tired because he was not sure where these expectations came from. Yet every day he carried them on his back. Balanced neatly between his shoulders.

Even so, it was not that burden that broke his will. It was the face in the mirror he stared at every day. It was the life he led. It was the man he had become. At some point, Eli felt he was no longer Eli. Since Eli could not be himself and the beauty of the world could not reach his heart. If he truly could not change. Why was he even here? With each passing day, Eli grew weary of his internal battle.

Through closed eyes and plugged ears, Eli could not stem the bleeding. He drank until his blood ran brown. He smoked until his head hit the clouds. It was never enough; the sobering reality was sobriety itself. And even when he was drunk, it was not the vodka that moved him. No, it was the spirit of false hope that decorated his dreams. February 28th at 6 pm. This was when the rays of the sunset bore through what remained in his mind. Eli could not shake the feeling of finality. There was nothing left here for him. Each experience became more null. Each emotion became more void. Finally, when the sun finally dipped below the horizon that auspicious night. The stars in his mind aligned. This is where his journey would end.

Eli adjusted his glasses scratching the side of his head. Brushing loose black locks behind his ears. The best part about Gladstone park was the massive oak tree in the middle of it. He used to come here all the time as a kid. Sundays with Sophie It was a beautiful time. The kind of 90s VCR nostalgia that would make your eyes well-up. Countless picnics, countless summers, spent on his father’s shoulders reaching for the sun.

Summers became fall. Fall became long cold winters. Sometime during those winters, Eli realized there was one less set of footprints in the snow. When mom said, “Your dad and I are taking some time apart from each other.” Eli had no idea it meant forever. The pattern of temporary happiness plagued Eli for years.

After a short walk, Eli Looked up to the tree. He could not help the feeling of nostalgia building up inside of him. Nostalgia, truly the wine of the weary. Eli took off his side bag and reclined on the wide trunk. Using his fingers, he felt the deep grooves of the tree bark. It was like feeling decades of history between his fingertips. One loud buzz later and Eli found himself reading a text from Sophie. Ten minutes of aimless scrolling, until suddenly he had no signal. Eli sighed, while he fixed the drape of his heavy flannel shirt. He stood up pacing around the tree with his phone up in the air.

After three trips around the base of the tree, Eli slid down the trunk in exasperation. As he slid down, a dull edge prodded his back. Eli jumped forward confused. He turned around and saw the corner of a tiny black book protruding from the tree. He fished the knife out from his back pocket and began to widdle out the book. After a few minutes of tedious work, Eli was rewarded with a small leather-bound book. It felt heavy. Eli sensed a deep history from it. He cracked it open and his nose was met with the scent of sandalwood. Written on the first page in the large gothic font read: Charles M Gladstone. Eli turned the page and found a journal entry dated March 1st, 1991.

To whoever finds this notebook,

My name is Charles M Gladstone. My father was the one who built this park and planted this tree over 50 years ago. Being the great son, I am. My dying wish was to jam my journal into this city’s pride the Gladstone. And I hoped that my words would reach another who had fond memories of this place. If you are anything like me, then you are also a nostalgic person. My nostalgia is what ruined my life. I spent all my time at this tree. Thinking of my mother and father. I would yearn for my childhood and a taste of the past. I used to wonder why things can’t ever go back to the way they were? In my pursuit of the past, the present passed me by. My children grew up. My wife grew old. My hair grew grey. It took me 60 years to open my eyes and appreciate life before me. That’s the thing about nostalgia, you are the common denominator. It’s not a memory unless you make it. It’s not a moment unless you have it. So be greedy my friend. Milk every moment. Do what makes you content. Romanticize your life because you deserve new memories everyday. The beliefs and expectations of others are exactly that. They are other. Your thoughts and memories are what belong to you. Curate a beautiful gallery for you and those you love. And if you can’t see the beauty of this life, watch the sunrise. Feel the warmth on your skin. Hold a baby. You are a speck of dust on a flying rock. Never has something so insignificant been so significant.

The world deserves your light. But before then you deserve it too. You deserve to be happy. You can do anything. And I am more than willing to help. Visit the address written on the back of this book. I promise you'll be rewarded handsomely. Tell em Charles sent you and do not forget the book. However, before you claim your prize I ask you to complete one task. Tell someone you love that you love them. Let it pour out of you. You’ll understand what it means to create a moment for yourself when you do this. Make my dream come true fellow lost soul. Don’t get lost in the nostalgia as I did.

Eli felt rivers forming on his face as he read and absorbed those heavy words. The distinct tingly sensation of anesthesia clutched his chest. Words echoed in his mind, “You can do anything.” Fate works in mysterious ways. Adages of old always seem cheesy until they are directly applicable. Eli wondered when he would count his chickens before his eggs hatched. His mind raced as he packed the book in his bag and made his way to Sophie’s apartment. Sophie was Eli’s best friend. She was his constant, she was mischievous, funny, and great to be around. Eli never understood why she stayed around. Subconsciously he always pushed her away. Until February 28th. When she told him, she was leaving the city for grad school. With big brown eyes and a gratuitous pause. Eli remained silent he did not know what she was waiting for. Now, now he knew all too well.

Heavily panting Eli finally made it to the door at Sophie's place. The white walls lined with white doors gave the place a bleak vibe. Eli knocked as his stomach became a skinny jean pocket with headphones inside. Each second felt like a lifetime. When finally, the doorknob turned and revealed Sophie. He was first met with the scent of warm vanilla and wax. She must have been burning candles again. Eli met sophies gaze. Amber eyes cheeks ever so rosy and radiant skin. Red lips pouted at Eli, she raised her thick eyebrows. Sophie could always say so much without ever saying a word. He wondered how he never noticed this before. Eli sighed and began to speak.

“Sophie I have to tell you something before you go… I am an idiot.”

Sophie exhaled, “you came all the way here to say that?”

“You never let me finish Sophie.” Smiled Eli “ I’m stupid… for you. I don’t know how I didn’t see it. Your smile, the way you raise your eyebrows when you tell a joke. How you steal my fries and pretend you didn’t. You are always so kind. You always use way too much hot sauce. You’re so bright. I love you. I’ve always loved you Sophie and I want to annoy you for the rest of our lives.”

“What took you so long dummy?” Laughed Sophie, as she stepped into the hallway. Eli looked into sophies umber eyes. They embraced and enveloped each other. The way only two connected souls can. She clutched him in her arms. As if to say never let go. This was their moment. The moment Eli and Sophie made together. No expectation, no nostalgia could take this away. Eli let go of Sophie, holding on to the curve of her waist.

“I have to take care of one last thing, I’ll see you tonight ok?” coaxed Eli as he stepped back to leave. Sophie nodded in response; her long sleeve shirt draped over her wrists in excitement.

0302 Boba Avenue was the address written in the book. It was a quaint colonial house close to Sophie's place. Eli approached the steps and knocked on the door with the small black book in hand. The tiniest old woman answered the door. She smelled of sugar cookies. Eli felt like he was being hugged again. "Can I help you, young man?" Began the woman.

“Yes, Charles sent me, my name is Eli.” He replied quickly.

The woman’s eyes began to shimmer with tears when she ushered him inside. She led him to a green couch with knitted covers. Cookies and tea were spread across the coffee table as if she was expecting company. “I waited 20 years for you to arrive, Eli, I'm Margot.” Began the woman.

"I hated how much my husband loved that darn tree. For a lot of our lives, it seemed like he cared more about it than me. Yet 20 years later here I am again bound by that tree. When Charles passed, he told me to wait for the inheritor of his will. He told me another nostalgic person will enter these doors and make me happy. I can see the light in your eyes Eli. So, I can tell you've followed my husband's instructions. He used to look at me with those same eyes. Turn to the last page, Eli.”

Eli opened the book from the back and felt a lump between the spine and paper. A few ruffles and shakes later a small key fell out. Margot brought out a large metal box. She handed it to Eli and motioned for him to open the box. Eli fiddled with the lock, opening the box to reveal a huge sum of cash, 20,000 dollars.

"What will you do with the money, Eli?" Asked Margot.

Eli paused for a moment before a smile coated his face, “I’m going to make memories Margot. But not before I return the book and the money. Charles gave me something much better.”

“And what might that be?” Replied Margot.

“This moment.” Answered Eli.