She picks up the bag, talking to herself idly.

This, in and of itself is not that unusual. She is, after all, only six and trying to amuse herself. Around her, three adults are talking to each other about their lives. Two of them are her parents, the other a friend who drove in to see the family while they were “in town.” They discuss family history and personal histories with each other- a staple of the conversation for old friends who have only been in the same room together for a total of a week’s time despite having shared friendships for nearly a decade. The single person of the three would muse upon the subject later on, accepting this as the consequence of the modern world.

The game plays out as such. She grabs the bag, walks through the room mumbling to herself and heading towards the door. The non-related adult sees this, wondering for a moment if she intends to leave the hotel room. The parents are not so much oblivious as they are used to it, one would suppose.

They have reason to not worry, it rurns out. She twists around in the corner of the room by the door, puts the bag down, picks it back up and returns to the other side of the room. She would repeat this later, several times.

……………………………………

There’s no way in hell that’s what I think it is, he thinks to himself.

It had been a long day. From hastily arranging time off of work to the three hour drive, to the time spent driving around Houston looking for the certain restaurant and store that they had to go to, to now sitting in a chair discussing matters of prior consequence, it had definitely been a long day. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, and began to lighten up the room. His friend sat on the floor next to the bed, the friend’s wife on the bedright behind him. The sun’s rays were just beginning to shine on the couple, when the one in the chair saw it.

A hair. Perfectly positioned to appear to be growing out of the ear of the man on the floor.

And it was long. Disturbingly long. So long to appear to be either woeful negligence or a sign of aging.

Okay, have to look somewhere else. Can’t look at the tv, it’s too obvious. Maybe I can look at Jerri, she’s a part of the conversation anyway. Okay, Dave’s talking now.

Wait a minute…
The man on the floor turned his head, and for the first time the man in the chair finally noticed it was simply a stray long strand picked up somewhere in the day. “Uhm, Dave? You’ve got a hair hanging off of your head.”

“Where?”

“On the -yeah, there you got it. Thank you, man. It looked kinda wierd.”

……………………………………

June 21, 1998 has always been a sore subject for the man in the chair.

It’s something he has thought about less and less over time, but he never forgets. Some people remember where they were when Kennedy died, or when the Challenger exploded. Others remember whentheir child was borne.

He remembered that day, as if it were yesterday.

It is a day that has defined his adult life, at one point overshadowing his own chances for success. For a long time, the memories of that day stood to drive him angrier and angrier. The anger has subsided, to be replaced by a pale sadness that has faded with time and distance.

Still, it is always in the back of his mind. And today, it hs come up. The woman on the bed knows part of the story, and the man on the floor has helped council the man in the chair through some rough times. Still, she is unaware of some of the story. So, he tells it once more. It is a marvel that he can now discuss the events so clearly without pausing, without choking up or feeling anger well up internally.

It is a marvel, or perhaps it is only to be expected. With time and distance has come perspective and healing, and the searing pain has been replaced by a dull scar across the psyche. since that day, he’s experienced so much of what life has to offer.

The pain of his family coming apart, only to rebuild and turn out closer and tighter-knit.

The joy of the next generation of his family being born.

The unexpected first chance at an adult relationship.

Finally being his own man, not defined by what came before him.

He has experienced life and so much more.

And yet…

And yet there is this nagging sensation in the back of his mind. The part of him that longs for the way things were before that day, and always wonders what if.

It’s that sensation that keeps him up at night.

……………………………………

…

I don’t talk much about my personal life on this site. I never have, really.

I think it’s been because I was afraid that if I did start discussing my life, the temptation would be to explain a bit of why I am the way I am. I’d have to explain those inner demons eventually.

I’ve had a bit of an eye-opener recently, an experience that has caused me to rethink what I’m willing to say on here. You may get some more of the whole story, why 6/21/98 is such an important day to me (And for those playing the home game- yes, I was the man in the chair), why I’m so hesitant to go in depth.

You may not like it. I may not like it, either. And if it gets to the point where I am no longer comfortable writing about it then you may see those posts cease.

Until then, I’ll give it a shot.

Out.

Tags: Personal_Stuff
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