last night i found myself wondering what you might be doing on a Saturday night. And with each moment of wondering, it hit me that i can’t wonder that way about you anymore because you are gone. really gone. and I felt this a booming thud in the center of my chest, a very, very loud and very deep thud of emptiness.

i can’t wonder about you the same way anymore because i am sure you are somewhere, in some place beyond my narrow realm of understanding. for some reason, i have this image of you in a state of floatation. it’s a nice image. you, in this weightless state,  sort of hovering above me, amused. you’d probably make a joke about weight loss. i would then say, I wasn’t talking about your weight. And we’d both end up apologizing to each other, or actually, trying to out-apologize each other. our running competition.

i hope you do come back. maybe you are making your way back right now as i type these words. maybe you are in mid-passage. When you do come back, it will be a miracle if i recognize you. if we recognize each other.

i wish i could do something to make you come back in a form i can recognize. But just in case you do not, it’s impossible for me to express how fortunate i am to have lived at the same time, on the same planet, in the same city, as you. and drank from the same pitchers of margaritas. and spoke a secret language only 2 or 3 people could understand… and of course, we’d apologize about it.

i can hear you making fun of me for even writing this, but in a loving, non-mocking way.

maybe if i keep this post going, keep typing about you, you will become tangible again. i might even be able to convince myself that your departure was just another one of my strange dreams.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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