Two Months.
I stood there bare feet in the sand, as the waves lapped themselves over my feet. The waves seemed to wash away all the negative energy I was carrying, as it’s cyclic nature continued. The water gliding over my toes and then receding back into the vast depths that lay in front of me, as if it were taking my sins away with it wave after wave. I watched her run, if you could call it that, out in front of me. Lauren wasn't the most graceful of people, it looked almost comical as water was splashing out with every step she took. She’s so childish, I thought to myself, though it’s that vibrant ‘Don't Give a Fuck’ attitude that I loved about her the most. The mid September sun was almost setting, the purple and orange started to brush itself across the sky as the sun started to descend. I don't know what we were doing there or even why, but everything just felt so right, so serene. Though, we were in shorts and sweaters, not the most ideal beach going attire but hell, we didn’t care. She turned to face me, a grin painting itself across her face, triggering one in mine. I felt the cool breeze of the fall weather sweeping itself across my face, then die down...then again. I groggily opened my eyes as my fan continued its sweep across my room. As if on command my other senses awoke one by one. I heard the buzzing of the cicadas filled my apartment. I felt the bright San Francisco sun, always finding a way to seep itself past my blinds.The fresh scents of the September season aromating my room. I sat up and checked my phone, ‘6:54 A.M’, time to start my day.
I got dressed and headed out for my morning walk, I’d head to into town walking the scenic route. The city seemed to be beginning to shed itself, the leaves slowly turning red, orange, and brown. People now starting to wear more layers as the cooler weather approached. I loved the fall, loved how the cool air caressed my face with every stride I took. How the warmth of my sweatshirt contrasted the fresh weather, going hand in hand to provide the perfect body temperature. I’ve followed the same routine for about two months now, I’d walk down past the beautiful sites of the bustling morning rush, to my favourite coffee shop and then down past the ol’ Golden Gate Bridge. As I walked into the coffee shop, I suddenly felt a bit different. This wave of nostalgia glazed itself over me. I’d been coming here ever since I was in high school but still, something felt a little different about today. This wave continued as I approached the counter. The woman at the register looked up at me grinning ear to ear. “David! It’s been a while darling, how are you!” she said. I looked up to the older woman, instantly recognizing her warm voice. I haven’t seen Karina in months. “Hey, where’ve you been?” I chuckled back at her. “Me and the hubby finally got to go on that trip back home to Venezuela, kids are finished college now and we finally were able to go back home and visit family,” she beamed at me. I’ve been a regular here for years on end, so I know most people who work here quite well. “Hey, where’s Lauren? She’s like your tattoo, I never see you two apart,”. A tattoo, I thought to myself, such an interesting way of viewing your wife. She probably didn’t give a second thought to her choice of words, but that intrigued me. Something or someone rather, that’s apart of you forever. It defines you, it says something about you, it’s yours. Other people see it and can interpret their own things about it, but it’s meaning to you is what you hold most special. It’s unique, beautiful, and yours alone. I smiled back “Aha, just me today Karina. I’ll take my usual”. I thought about what she said, and how lucky she was. Spending time with her family away and touring the world, seeing their second home. What a way to go down into retirement, such a fitting way down to in that final stretch. A happy ending, one could say.
I carried myself over to the second counter where I would get breakfast. A medium double-double with a dash of cinnamon and a shot of an espresso, alongside a sausage and biscuit breakfast sandwich. “Same old every day eh Dave? How are ya? You’re looking much better today man”, Arman said as he slid over my food from across the counter. Someone else that worked here that I knew well here. “Hey man these abs aren't gonna tone themselves” I jokingly said poking my overtly fleshy abdomen. I’d actually cancelled my gym membership a few months back, think my current state was the lack of food actually. He laughed in response, “That’s not what I was talking about but good shit man, you are looking leaner. Time off work doing you well?”. I’ve been working what seems nonstop the past year, but these couple of months off have done me some good. “Yeah, trying to enjoy life a little more now, seeing a lot of things differently now,” I replied. Perspective, I thought to myself. This has been something I’ve mulled over quite a bit recently. “Cheers Plato,” he chortled back, sliding me today’s copy of the San Francisco Chronicle. I smiled back as I took my food, and headed over to our usual spot. I sat back and opened up the paper, taking a sip of my coffee.
What did we have in store for today, I thought to myself. The papers nowadays were usually filled with the orange oompa-loompa looking joke of the President, filling the sheets with more scandals than a “Real Housewives of _____” show. Russia this, Russia that, the media painted this guy like a real super villain. But then again, there are a good bit of people who love everything this guy spews. This whole idea of perspective started to unravel itself in my thoughts again. At the end of the day, if a solid amount of people in this country didn’t believe in this guy, he wouldn’t be President now, would he? Being in his shoes must be quite tough however, wonder what it feels like when in your mind you’re making the right decision but the whole world thinks you’re an idiot. Though, should society’s views upon your actions really mean that much to you? Well I thought, laughing at my overly philosophical outlook, if you’re the damn President I guess it should. Although in a broader perspective, why the fuck should I care about what others think about my actions, when what I’m doing makes me happy and seems right by me. My eyes kept skimming throughout the paper. Reading The Chronicle always made me feel kind of important, made me feel like I was in touch with the world. I found myself clutching the paper as I came across a title on the third page, ‘Teen Drunk Driver Collides with SUV’. My mind kept racing. Who’s the villain here? The obvious answer would be the driver, who seemed to put two people in critical condition. But then again, he was just some kid who made a mistake, someone who tried to enjoy themselves on a night out and paid the price. This kept me thinking, heroes and villains. They say every villain is the hero of their own story, but villains never get happy endings do they. But why? They do what they think is right, they have a purpose, a goal. Barring extremes, why shouldn’t they get their happy endings? They don’t care about what society thinks, they do their own thing. Why does society determine success? I felt a sudden bit of clarity, a feeling that I hadn’t felt a while. Before I got too tangled up in my thoughts again, I sat up and left the shop and continued my way down to the bridge.
I brushed passed the eversoaring amount of people who were taking their daily strolls alongside me on the bridge. I walked here everyday for the past two months, and stopped at the spot where we always stood, the spot I peered over every day. I looked over to the vast grey skies settling around me, cascading itself across the mid morning sky and disappearing over the horizon into the vast Pacific ocean. Everyday for the past two months, same routine, same thought, same spot. I peered over the edge once again. I remembered proposing to her on this very spot. Very stupid and very cliche I know, but that was us. Nothing too special was needed. It was a beautiful warm evening, the rain poured down from the sky. I didn’t know whether the wetness from my face was the rain or the tears of joy we shed when she said yes. Lauren always told me how I needed to loosen up, stop caring about what others had to say and live my life. I thought about how I was the author to my own life, how I should do whatever I want or need to do. Something really did feel different about today. I wonder how society would view the end to my story? How would they view my decisions, my actions? Would they think of me as the villain, I thought, getting a closer view of the water down below. Would they think of my story as a sad and tragic one, with a terrible ending? But then again in my eyes, this could be my happy ending, this could be the fitting end to the tale. I looked down at the water and thought about my dream, the water washing the pain away. This way,I might be finally able to see Lauren again, I thought to myself. My heart warmed, tears welled in my eyes as my feet dangled down below. Everyday for the past two months I’ve had the same thought. I kept pondering as the comotion ignited behind me.
