Chris sat alone on a lone bench
overlooking the river at Woldenberg Park. He watched the occasional jogger dart
past as sounds of children playing around a nearby large tree filled the air.
An occasional tourist ambled past
while a couple of homeless men slept soundly under a nearby oak tree.
The late afternoon sun felt good to
Chris; it shone like a heavenly spotlight as he absorbed the warmth and
richness that it held. It was a feeling that had been long absent from his mind
and in his heart.
Chris laughed to himself, sorting through what was real and what might have been imagined.
A dog?? I can understand blacking
out and dreaming a bunch of crazy shit, but how explicit can one’s dreams be?
Those must have been some good pills, Chris
mused.
A dog…with a name?? Chris tried to wrap his mind around what really happened.
Why couldn’t I have visualized the
entire Saints cheerleading squad doing naked aerobics over my bed? He silently wished.
Chris couldn’t explain what he’d
seen for the hours that he lay unconscious on the sidewalk and in the hospital.
Maybe it was a drugged out vision, maybe not, but it certainly felt real enough
to him.
His mind opened to new
possibilities, new dreams…rebirth.
The mind is funny, just as the doc
had explained. It stores information and logic, available at a moment’s notice.
Information and thought processes that get us through each day. It’s a cradle
of facts and, for some, an abundance of common sense. It plays tricks, it
conceals, it’s mysterious and complex.
Chris’ mind had been burdened for far too long, he thought. Could have, should have and would have were wasted words to him now.
So many people wish for another yesterday. For some it’s to re-live a successful day from their past. Others wish to right a wrong or to correct a misstep. But, yesterday is gone forever and the present, Chris realized, is a time to create a new yesterday. To look back and savor the good times, to learn from mistakes and to move forward as though tomorrow may never come.
Life really is that simple; it’s one’s mindset and actions which overcomplicate things.
It would be easy to sit on that park
bench and beat himself to a pulp about the past or to fret over the long,
winding road ahead. But, Chris smiled, remembering one thing...he always
enjoyed road trips. The scenery is the best part. Sometimes detours take you to
interesting places filled with fascinating sights. Places which are inhabited
by equally fascinating people. For this trip, the only road map needed is a
curious mind and a zest for adventure.
An elderly gentleman passed by with a beautiful golden retriever. Chris smiled to himself again as his thoughts drifted like the mighty Mississippi River in front of him. A dog, a 7-year old and a reformed gang member? Really? He shook his head, replaying his adventure with disbelief.
His thoughts suddenly shifted. "Marie," he whispered, rising from the bench.
Chris entered the pub and took a seat at the end of the bar.
"Where the hell have you been??? I’ve been calling you like crazy!" Marie demanded.
"I had to get away for a couple of days," Chris sheepishly answered.
"Jesus Christ, I was worried sick Chris!"
"And that’s different from any other day in what way?" Chris nonchalantly asked.
"Very funny," she snapped, slapping the top of his hand.
"Whatcha drinkin’ baby?"
"I’ll take a cup of coffee."
"Coffee?"
"Yep, coffee," he reiterated.
Marie returned with Chris’ coffee and propped her elbows on the bar top directly in front of
his cup, her head rested in her hands.
"So, how ya’ doin’?" She asked.
"I’m good. Listen, Marie," Chris carefully began. "I’m thankful for everything you’ve done, you’ve been a good friend and I know I’ve been an impossible pain in the ass; I’m sorry."
"Don’t worry about it, that’s what friends are for...Besides, you’ve been there for me with my shitty drama in the past. I think we may be twins in that respect," she laughed.
Marie thoughtfully stared at Chris for a moment until he awkwardly broke the silence.
"Hey, this may sound a bit odd," he nervously fidgeted.
"I, uh, well, I was thinking about something, it’s no big deal and don’t feel obligated, It‘s just a thought, that you might not feel the same about," he stumbled.
Marie interrupted, "will you spit it out??"
"Have dinner with me tomorrow, just me and you," Chris blurted.
"Dinner? Like dinner or dinner??" She curiously pried. Marie's mind raced, trying to make sure she hadn’t misread him.
"What difference does the word dinner mean? "Why cant you just make this fucking easy on me?" Chris complained.
"What? I'm just asking which dinner you meant. Dinner or dinner?" Marie tried to unsuccessfully explain.
"Are you clinically insane?" Chris asked.
"Maybe," Marie teased.
"Well," Chris hesitantly began, "I’d like to get dressed up and go to dinner. The participants will be you and me. There will be food involved, there will, most likely, be conversation and
I‘ll open doors for you…we’ll analyze what dinner means from there," Chris deadpanned.
Marie smiled. "I’d love to have dinner with you." She accepted, slightly blushing. "What should I wear?" Marie excitedly asked.
"Oh my God," Chris sighed, laying his head on the bar top.
Marie turned to grab an order down the bar where she casually passed Sally, who had just arrived for her shift. Marie wore a smile that beamed from ear to ear as she made eye contact with Sally.
She briefly glanced back to Chris and again to Sally. Sally casually peeked over Marie’s shoulder toward Chris, then back to Marie.
"We’re having dinner," Marie loudly whispered, still wearing a colossal smile. Sally laughed at both of them as she walked away shaking her head.
"Lordy, Lordy Lordy," Sally’s voice trailed as she disappeared behind the kitchen doors.
New Orleans, Louisiana. Yes indeed! She’s beautiful, she’s loving, she can be a total bitch. But, making up is the best part.
When she puts her arms around you, it’s like no feeling in the world.
Many a transplant and local will tell you that she’s virtually impossible to leave.
Once you’ve experienced her, no matter where fate finds you in this big, sometimes complicated, world, you’ll always take a piece of her with you. Deep within your heart.
It’s home.
The End
copyright, Pontchartrain Press 2008
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