“Do you ever get the feeling that you’re not where you’re supposed to be?” I asked my friend. We were driving home from the county fair. I love the fair. Everyone walks around, funnel cakes in hand, gazing at the farm animals contentedly. There’s something satisfying in the simplicity of it all.
But the thing about simplicity is that it makes you think about things that are quite the contrary, quite muddled, quite complicated.
“What, you think we’re lost?” my friend said, looking left and right at the road signs.
“No,” I said. Then I looked around myself. “Wait, are we?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve done everything the GPS told me to. Says we should be home in about 8 minutes.”
“Oh, well that’s good. But it’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I meant like cosmically. Like in the grand scheme of life, do you ever feel like you aren’t in the right place? Lost sort of?”
How are you?
I know, I haven’t been around much. I haven’t been the best friend to you. But things just got in the way. Life got in the way. I’m not talking about the living, breathing life. I’m talking about the working, responsible, accountable, working, working and more working life. It’s funny. People are always saying how life is so good, that life is such a blessing, but we constantly blame it for standing in the way of that which we love.
But that’s just a sorry excuse. You don’t leave behind what you love. Ever. No matter what’s standing in the way. I always said that you were one of my favorite things, that no matter what happened, I’d always come back to you. I always said that you were so closely tied to me that I would never forget you. I’ll always love you I said. Always.
But I didn’t.
A guy and a girl sat on a porch smoking peach flavored cigars under a dim, summer sky.
And it was just perfect.