Coming of Age

 

When the U-Haul truck slowly rolled out of the driveway in one final respectful goodbye to the home she grew up in, I wiped the lone tear from my eye.  It's awe inspiring to witness the death of innocence. 

It was one of those adolescent moments where I revel in the romanticism yet years later, cling to because it scarred me.   I loved her.   It said so on Page Three of the scantily clad handwritten note I left on the windshield of that large dream killing vehicle.

Out of the grip of love's bittersweet clenched fist, I can't help but rewind and see where I went wrong.  I mean, where I, as a human being, went astray.  Am I wired so imperfectly that this moment was inevitable? 

I was laying on a waterbed; caught between the curiosity of sex on this uncomfortable fad and the misery of knowing I will never be able to tell her how I feel... well, I knew one day I would tell her but by then, she would be married with 2 kids.   And I was right.   I stared at her pictures of then and her family portrait of now and I realized I am her dodged bullet. 

I defined those years by my anarchic teen spirit that was used to mask my profound sorrow.  She was my soulmate.  One of many to come.  All those anxieties provoked by my very own prosaic desires.  God is good, I said.

Thawing from a cold winter in the solitary of my own mind, I can't help but seek warmth in those moments where my silence gave me hope yet gave birth to regret later.  I find solace in their happiness.  I will find a small dose of peace in yours.   Dear friend, I am writing to you.  In my own way,.  I am a better person than you believe I am.  I am worse of a human being than I believe I am.  I am overstated and misunderstood.   Dear friend, I was coming of age.   And I froze right then.

I was the one who held his hand as his trembled.  I suppose I wanted to absorb his intelligence, his toughness and his mystique.  He was my brother.   As each day passed by, we watched his life slowly drip from his pores.  Man, we are old, I said.  He half smiled and punched me in the arm.  This time, it didn't hurt.  Years later, I cling to the failure of saving him.  It was my job.  As his brother. 

We accept the love we think we deserve.   Man, I wept when I heard those words.  Sure, I've heard them before but not in this state of mind.   You make me feel bad about myself.  Or maybe, you held up an inner mirror.  I don't like mirrors.  Never have.  It was never hyperbole.  Truth is the least obvious sometimes.

I went to a New Years Eve party.  Some asked if she was a model.  Man, she was tall.  Taller than me.  Beautiful and broken.  Beautifully broken.  I had better things to do 5 minutes after midnight.   I started off the new year being stupid.   She started off the new year being raped.   I should have stayed.  No one deserves to be left alone with strangers.

I stood in the rain under cover of a payphone.  It was a suicide, mother said.  I was drunk.  I knew in the morning, the world would be different.  And it was.   My new circle of friends had expanded.  Hers, diminished by one.  I am sorry, soulmate. 

I was coming of age and it was no different than you.  Or anyone.  Similar tales of angst, loss, joy, sorrow, and intensity.  They were better days.  And, it's hard to think they can be matched. 

I tried, dear friend.