Forward (carry on)

He doesn’t have to leave. He has the choice to stay. Life isn’t bad. The days have gotten quite comfortable, in fact (as have the nights). There would be only success from hereon, without a doubt. He’s made friends, made amends, cleaned up his mess, re-connected both with the spiritual world and his physical facsimile. The job has been cushy, but perhaps an alternative is overdue. He’s been very fortunate. Nevertheless, forward thinking involves forward movement. One becomes stagnant when the routine has been perfected to mock-art. His time at the Wylland Estates has been proper…but now the time has come for a fresh perspective.

He’s rolled up his entire existence into one rucksack and a carry on—having given away most of everything, belongings which carried their own stories from too many years ago. Some were donated to charities, some to the dumpster in the back lot. A few were kept and shipped across the ocean to his new home. It hadn’t ever occurred to him how nice it is to be able to carry your world on your shoulders, like Atlas, but with the delight of your Sunday best and embracing the challenge as opposed to fearing it as punishment.

Suite 138 seems a lot bigger since it’s been emptied. Cleaner. The air not as strangled as before. The memories will always remain in these rooms, reenacting themselves like theatre anytime the mind fancies itself to walk through that hall. His ambitions have yet to unfold, but in the near future they will be established and published within various versions of thought and debate from places the imagination has not yet foretold. Only positive experiences are assured. He will start anew: a different name, a skewed past, an undisclosed age… anything to trick the truth—in the name of adventure, not deception as one might assume. Life is but one melody after the next. Another verse leading into another chorus, an ode to that which has not yet been heard.

He checks the display on his phone…the flight leaves in less than four hours. There’s time yet to get one last latte from his favourite barista down the walk. Pretty soon coffee will be an entirely different experience. Not just sugar and cream, but liqueur, cognac, whipped cream and strong espresso over passionate tertulia to keep him safe from harm!

Flicks the light switch and off he goes to tend to the rest of his life. He leaves the door behind him just a tiny bit ajar. There is no animosity, no sadness. Staying, simply, would mean selling himself short. He is filled with anticipation, renewed aspiration. Admiration for those he will miss the most. This has, after all, been the greatest chapter of his life so far.

And he is grateful.


Ldm