I can see the heat from both of our mouths escaping into the frigid midnight air as we sat on the front step of my home. I have to leave tomorrow and you got school, but we both brave the coldness just to talk for hours filled with laughter and excitement about the possibilities that the future has in store. I sit across from Garrison as he laughs about a night we had on top of a roof underneath a golden moon. He sat around a fire as the stars above him were constantly moving across the sky like an electronic nite brite. He was Clark and I was Lewis braving the great unknown in search of the Pacific. I won the sweepstakes as he saw himself as an old man in the mirror. Yet, through everything we have been through we were rocked to sleep by the shadows running across the walls of our room in that Weaverville home.
Looking down at the lights of Victorville while we pace back and forth across the deck filled with a knowledge of special times and good friendships. It seems that this night is filled with both. We stroll back into a room coated with silver people playing with blocks getting ready to tumble down if someone with an unsteady hand delivers a rough touch. What passionate feelings I have for everyone in this room. A love that is unexplained but everyone feels. Brad is talking up a storm as is customary when surrounded by so many interesting people. He is overwhelmed by the stimulating events that are happening all around him. The night continues on and I just can't sit still. I have to be up moving around hoping someone can meet my frantic pace that has enveloped me on this silver night, or is it platinum? Whatever the color is, it has caught my eye. I roll over into the kitchen to see three good friends laughing in a common way. They have some pink cats in their hands. Laughter ensues. We all make our way to the patio where we soak our bodies while the sun peaks up over the mountain tops. A breath of life swims into our souls as Brad glows in the sunlight as it slowly moves closer to us across the water. A night has come and gone.
We still haven't fully settled into this town. We were still living on the high of being in a new town not fully tied down to any serious commitments. The wood stove is burning, heating up our uninsulated home. We sat at a round table across from each other with some tea just remembering. We believe in a "great rememberer" as our conversation was recorded on a hidden computer. Jackson is speaking so I must listen. He speaks with a degree of english behind him. His art is his words and his weapon if he so chooses. He remembers a night of music in a city that never sleeps. We sat atop a roof with colored lights looking down upon the masses. A sweet little blonde captured my eye and down the stairs I went. Jack just walked right by me and it was no longer the masses but me that he was watching, dissecting my every action. Down to the lower level we go now surrounded by an ocean of people swaying to a growling wildcat over the speakers. A sea of life being seduced by a rhythm guitar as the angles just smiled down upon all of us. Jackson, the seeker of understanding and good times moves with simple beauty controlled by the goddess of desire. He is the gate keeper refusing entrance to the train of freedom to those sweet innocent souls. You shall not pass.
He speaks to me with such love. He is nearly crying as he spills his desires and dreams for my life. He has seen the birth of his first child and now has to be a man even if he doesn't want too. He has strong love for everyone in his life. Kyle hands Ansley over to me and a massive rush of indescribable emotions runs through my body. I look down at her squinting eyes and all I can do is laugh as tears roll down my face. My brother. A man who watched me grow up with a secret love that he could only express in his own ways. A man who protected me in the green way of our once Oregon home. He has given life to a beautiful little girl. I rock her back and forth wanting her to know me. She exhales against my chest. I love her. One day she will love me too. I never want to say goodbye. My brother hugs me goodbye and I can feel in his arms a longing for home. He looks at me with nervous eyes as we bid each other farewell once again. He looks at me with concern. He prays that I will grow up the way I was raised. I love him for that.
It seems as if the hour hand is moving faster than the minute hand.
