Letters from a Friend

The leather seats squeaked soundly against my weight shifting as the car rolled over the rough suburban pavement. Rain splattered full droplets racing down the side of the tinted dark window, shading the already gray gloomy sky a deep dark purple. The driver’s teeth clacked together, filling the silence with a dull chattering. Letters carefully stacked in my opened leather briefcase scattered across the floor, my head smashed against the passenger side backseat. Burning rubber filled my nose, with a few guttural words the black sedan lurched aggressively forward. I leaned down reaching for a green card resting atop the scrambled pile. Trembling fingers clumsily unfolded the thick card stock, thin scrawled letters surrounded a cartoon pine tree. Looking out over a sea of unfathomable blues, who may guess what lurks beneath the unwieldy surface. Rolling waves threatening to knock this weary traveler off his course, howling winds push and pull. I fear I’ve lost my way, stuck chasing a wake that was of my own making. Endlessly spiraling inwards chasing my own tail. Phantom ships pass in the night, their ghostly tendrils falling upon my empty vessel. I call out in desperation, but the spirits stare through my cries. As if I was naught but a moaning ghost, merely a haunting presence in my own life. The paper fell from my hands, I leaned against the door frame resting my head against the cold dark window. A long concrete walk bridge crossed over four steel train tracks traversing upon a gravel bed. I fought to keep the bridge in my eyeline as we circled around the block. Staring expectedly outside the other window for the large white supports connecting above the walkway. A small post-it clung to the side of the leather seat, its flapping edge waving in my peripheral vision. It is impossible to truly know our own mind and others. How can we be content with ourselves knowing full well the version we see as ourselves does not quite meet with reality. Spying but windows into the cavernous depths too vast to traverse. Just as true of our own minds as it is looking into the eyes of another. Never really knowing where we go, only where we are. The driver cleared his throat, his question swiftly answered with a wave of my hand. We passed the red fire hydrant in front of the footbridge I didn’t yet have the courage to approach. The driver’s brow furrowed in the rear view mirror. My eyes jumped from his gaze turning to my worn leather shoes. A torn out college ruled pag sat on the floor beside the black worn soles. I’m losing my mind, lost in tortuous thoughts of what could be rather than what is. Too much time spent appeasing the whims of those sat atop the pedestal I built. Regressing to a lifestyle wasted on frivolity and copious libations. I walk this lowly road, carved by the rut my mired feet tread. Life’s bloom is ever fleeting, rarely allowing the onlooker a glance at its full colored blossom. I find the season of white covered trees, blanketing all in a final silence. The driver pulled over, the car lurched as his front left wheel rolled onto the curb. He threw his thick hairy arms in the air, glaring at me then the door with mean green eyes. I opened the door, stumbling onto the sidewalk. The black door handle ripped from my grasping hands and the car sped off leaving a trail of papers. The door flapped in the wind until the car pulled a sharp left turn, finally slamming shut. A single pink note rested upon my knee,loopy handwriting filling the delicate note. We go through life with but one purpose. An everlasting search for reasons to perpetuate our fleeting existence. Life which has been filled with trial after trial fraught with pitfalls at every bend. I see now there is but one fascination our mind cannot be rid of. We accrue distraction after distraction hoping the promise of an unquiet peace can dam the endless tide drowning our thoughts. I am left in the middle of a black hole calling us for one final plunge. My tired feet had carried me over to the walkway. I stepped over the small wall blocking passersby from the fall. My thin red tie flew in the breeze as I cautiously shuffled closer to the alluring edge. My hands instinctively reached for my pockets, finding a final folded paper resting at the bottom of my sewn pocket. The breeze attempted to tear the note from my grasp, my balance was tested hanging over the edge with one foot desperately clinging to my life raft. My eyes squinted to read the fading penciled in lines, smudged from the rough handling it was forced to bear. What cycles do we choose to repeat, are we doomed to follow the same path we unwittingly take? Do people not change even if human nature might be everlasting? I know not if I’m a good person but rather how to be better than I was today. Purpose found with intention, deciding that constant improvement is the reason for this so-called life. I cling to my small truths with all my strength, although they are tested constantly by the perspectives of others I am tethered to these humble things. I love myself. Air wooshed past my ears, hair whipping behind as I fell forward with closed eyes. A smile played across my face, my arms stretched out wide as one final thought came over me. I love Myself. My hair changed direction, laying flat by my head as I swooped upwards, brushing the ground with the tips of my toes. My trajectory curved, flying towards the heavens and leaving the cold concrete walk bridge behind.