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I drive through the old town square, thinking ahead of which trail I want to hit on my bike.
Ah, to feel alive again! I think I am finally getting over you—finally! It feels good.
Noticing the crowds gathered for the protest, and looking at my new camera beside me, I quickly hang a right and decide to pull in and get some photos.
Circling the town square, I search for a parking space, darting in to the first one I see.
Grabbing my camera and eyeing the assembled crowd, I hop out from the driver’s seat and walk toward the gathering. It’s hot—sweltering; the sun is bright and brutal, I’m alive, and summer is here.
Approaching a few people, I strike up a conversation and stand in solidarity. It feels good to be with my people, kindred spirits.
See, I can do this. I can be a part of life again. Yes, I am alive again—finally!
I think I am finally getting over you. I knew I would; it just took longer than I expected, that’s all.
Leaving the square to head back to the truck, I stop and ask a threesome if I can take some shots of them. They’re friendly, especially the pretty one. Pretty sure she is flirting with me. She is laughing way too hard at everything I say—she is definitely into me.
I am definitely getting over you, finally!
Parting ways, I head back to the truck with an extra jump in my step. I knew this was a good idea, to get out and live. I am definitely getting over you, finally. Time to move on! Maybe I will play some Tom Petty on my way to the trails.
Rounding the corner, my stroll slows to a stop. You have got to be kidding me…
I look to my right, and I’m looking at the diner where we had our first “date” together. I remember the travel agent we talked to as we were leaving. Do you remember her? They were such a nice couple. I still have the business card she gave us.
I know exactly where that card is, because I had placed it in a bag attached to a poem I had written to you as part of your birthday present. Oh yeah, I never got to give you that gift. I think you really would’ve loved it. I imagined us laughing as you realized it was her business card.
Snapping out of the trance of memory and looking for where my truck is, I shake my head in disbelief. It simply can’t be possible, except that it is possible. I am parked in the parking space. Yeah, that one—the one where we had our first kiss. When I awkwardly asked for permission to kiss you and apologized for being awkward, but admitting that I am often awkward. The parking space where it all began, that is where I am parked, out of every single possible parking space. I remember driving home that night after that kiss.
I get in the truck quickly and place the keys in the ignition. My vision is blurred as I turn the switch and the engine starts. I can’t pull out to drive, because I can’t see. I sit here, behind the steering wheel, feeling the waves coming to take me away, out deep into the ocean once again, where it is calm and peaceful.
I open myself up, giving myself to them, ready to ride them wherever they may take me. Ready for them to release me.
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