The Black Nail

I worked far too hard today. 

I asked myself many questions regarding passion vs. money.

Passion won.

…so did the cost of living comfortably.

I decided at the end of the evening to venture out of the house and hit the theatre for a film.

The Time Travelers Wife.

Foremost, Rachel McAdams is enchanting.

…and very believable. 

I want to be loved as such.

Second, albeit Science Fiction, I was moved.

Drip. 

It brought a flood of thoughts that needed sorting.

It reminded me of a time I loved so much it nearly killed me.

I asked myself, if I knew it would end the way it did, would I have still loved just as much?

Yes.

Just as much.

I made my way back home.

As I pulled up the drive the moonlight poured in through the sunroof.

Peggy Lee was singing “Days of Wine and Roses”.

I shut down the engine and let her finish.

Moving.

I thought, “This song would be lovely on vinyl.”

I unlocked the door and headed upstairs for a bottle of water.

Back down I went and out into the street.

I focused on my breathing to obtain relaxation and a clear head for thinking.

I walked.

Thought.

Wrote things down on the walls of my mind.

I sang the verse to a song I wrote, last night, over and over.

Outloud.

I pondered how one, brief, encounter could spark such a thing.

I wandered onto the University that shares the main road with my new home.

Soon after, I found myself on the baseball field by way of an unlocked gate.

Standing at home plate, with nothing but the moon to light the field, I began to daydream.

I took a few practice swings.

Then, accepted a pitch from the mound in front of me and smacked it out of the park.

I ran the bases as if the game depended upon it.

When I returned to home plate, out of breath, I chuckled at myself.

I loved the game.

Teamwork.

Being accepted.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t molded to partake.

I stood there looking up at the lights – memories flashed back.

I remember trying out for the team every year in high school.

I shook my head and laughed as I also remembered being cut from the team.

Every year.

Just before the season would begin.

I pulled out the drawer labelled “Pieces of life that make me who I am” and placed these memories back inside.

I left the ball field and headed out past the soccer field… the tennis court… the gymnasium…

Walking down Granny White Pike, I arrived at one of my favourite bookstores.

Looking in the windows I smiled thinking how great it was that I could walk here.

The littlest things have always made me happy.

I made my way back through the campus stopping to read a few placards detailing moments of history.

I smiled again as I thought of how much my love for history has grown.

I stumbled upon a perfect little white swinging bench and made it my own for the next 30 minutes. 

Aside from the crawlers of the night I seemed to be the only living organism out that evening.

Yet as time passed, a couple walked by arguing distinctively about their relationship.

He seemed miserable.

She, adamant. 

I looked at the empty seat to my left and mentally shrugged my shoulders.

Shortly after, an older gentleman flew by on his bicycle.

Making a few rounds up and down ramps he too seemed to be reliving his youth.

I was alone again.

Crickets sang and the damp air grew thicker.

Naturally, my thoughts turned back to love.

I was looking at a tree in front of me thinking that it seemed perfect for carving initials enclosed by a heart.

I was brought back to when I was in Central Park this past May having those same thoughts.

Different tree.

Different interests. 

Knowing that this life was not mine to script I stood and began to make my way back home.

Here I sit.

It’s empty.

Quiet.

But for now…

I am content.