I enjoyed most of the time, and missed sharing the exceptional moments with you.
Two nights ago, drinking at one of my regular places, one of the off-duty waitresses shouted at me across the edge of the bar, "Why are you pouring salt on the homemade coaster?"
I smiled. "It keeps the glass from sticking to the napkin."
Her laughter was its own answer. "That's so OCD," she said.
I know my problems, and I know when a battle is lost. I shrugged and smiled, holding my fingers up a few centimeters apart. "A little bit," I answered. She was dutifully entertained.
A couple of weeks ago when I was haunting the downtown clubs, I found a kindred spirit. We made our way off the floor to a back table; I'd promised to buy her a drink.
Introductions were had. She looked familiar, as apparently I did to her. Seattle is a small city.
She grabbed my right hand and stared at my cat ring. "We've met, haven't we?"
I looked at her carefully. "Six months ago, here?"
"Yeah! Sorry, I'm kind of baked."
"That's okay, I'm kind of drunk."
Time passed; my youth replayed. I haven't been young for a very, very long time.
The night ended. I asked "Do you want to get breakfast?"
"Eating at this hour? Are you crazy?" she answered.
"Find you a Red Bull, then?" I asked hopefully.
"No, I'm going home," she replied. She kissed my cheek and left.
Two weeks ago, I hiked with some friends through the north Cascades. After a wrong turn down the Middle Forks Road, it was fifteen miles total through the beauty of rural Washington.
I'm only here in these moments. A life of snapshots, pleasures, disappointments.