New Years Eve in Missouri

Aug 222014
 

It was the winter of ’55 and it would be the winter of ’56 in fourteen minutes. I was 21yo, in the Air Force driving through Missouri on my way to a new base assignment.

The whole world’s about to celebrate and here I am in my partying prime all alone without a girl to kiss. There’s a lesson here somewhere. What’s the big deal? We’re the only creatures on the planet with a calendar and as far as I know, the big old universe will flow right on past midnight without a glance. So turn off Sinatra and keep your foot on the gas pedal.

What’s the name of this town? I didn’t catch it on the way in. They really do all look the same. Yea, but it’s your whole world if you live here.

Huh, looks like a traffic light up ahead—that’s one more than some of these towns have. How far did I drive today? I’ll be at the base sometime tomorrow.

Is that movie theater actually open? There are only three cars in front and the rest of the street is as dead as a doornail. Dead as a doornail? – How about dead as a deadbolt? Yea, that’s better. Okay, I’m losing it. Maybe I should take a break and check it out; the marquee says they’re having a special New Years countdown.

I parked the car and walked over to the little kiosk in front of the movie house and bought a ticket from a very tired looking man.

Oh boy, there must be two hundred seats in here and a hundred ninety-eight are empty. So I’m sad sack number three. Maybe I’ll put this in my memoirs someday. I’ll call it “New Years Eve in Missouri.”

Good News Flash: It’s almost midnight and I’ll be out of here and back on the road in about five minutes. I guess the special New Years countdown will start after this movie ends. Oh, I see, the movie will continue after the special New Years countdown. I’ll pass on that, and no, I don’t want a rain check. What’s the name of this movie? I don’t recognize it but then I don’t see many movies these days—too busy flying airplanes. Man that’s fun! And it’s real.

Okay, one minute to go. Is that the special New Years countdown, that old black and white clock face on the screen? It looks like it was made in the silent movie days. It’s as old and worn out as this theater. Auld Lang Syne always makes me feel sad and good at the same time … I’m not really feeling the good part right now.

Five, four, three, two, one … oh geez … one guy clapped … three claps … clap … clap … clap. Each clap got duller than the last. The last one was really pathetic. A one-armed man couldn’t have done worse! Come on, give the guy some credit; at least he clapped. Get real, he was being sarcastic. He said what all three of us felt. So I’ll give him credit for that.

Okay, that’s sad. I don’t feel good for these guys. But what am I gonna’ do, stand up and make a rousing speech to two lonely guys about how good life could be for them if they only did … what? What I’m doing? That ain’t gonna’ happen. Anyway, they’d probably beat the crap out of me.

Hit the road, Mac.

 August 22, 2014

Love Letter

Jul 312014
 

My Dearest ________,

I awoke filled with the knowledge of you. It was not a dream.

I stood alone on a high balcony, which overlooked a great expansive, high-pillared hall. I looked down upon a large milling crowd of elegantly dressed people. I immediately sensed your presence among them, and then … I saw you—your exquisitely lovely face, the indescribable natural grace of your movements, your pensive gaze that spoke to my heart—and something else that I cannot know or say or dream away—an ineffable eternal knowledge that we share.

I longed to be with you, to look into your eyes, hear your voice, to touch and hold you. I knew at once, profoundly, that I had always loved you and that you had always loved me.

It was not a moment in time for time ceased or was replaced by you. I knew we had been joined forever, beautifully, in a transcendent, eternal truth. I simply knew. Yet I was unable to move or speak.

Dear beautiful soul, how I love and miss you so. You are my missing piece.

You moved slowly toward the far right exit of the great hall among those I somehow knew were your friends. You did not look my way; not once. I knew you would not, could not. I knew there was a reason for our separation, a reason of great import, though I knew not what it was. 

Then, inside my longing I knew we would be together again—though not how or when. Yet I knew.

My gaze widened in an attempt to understand where I was—where we were. In that brief moment time returned. As the crowd moved slowly out of the great hall I strained to see if you were still there among them, but you were not. You were gone. Had you been there, it would have been impossible to miss you, for we are joined in an intimacy beyond all earthly experience or comprehension.

This is my love letter to you, my dearest one. I cannot know why we are separated in time and space. And why I was able to cross over ever so briefly to witness our love remains a mystery. But if by the same cosmic grace that touched me, you are permitted to read these words, know that any love I have experienced here was an anemic imposter compared to ours.

For now, I can only dream of being reunited with you … forever.

Your Robert

Note: I did awake one morning with this “knowledge.” I put ‘knowledge’ in quotes because even though the experience was far more powerful—profound—than any dream I have had, I realize that there could be other explanations. Still, given how little we really know about who, what, why, and even where we are, I don’t rule out the possibility that I had in fact been in the presence of my soulmate.

 July 31, 2014

why loneliness?

Feb 272006
 

you ask,
why loneliness?
i ask,
why mosquitoes?
or love?
or humans?
are they all the same question?

 February 27, 2006
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