Sitting here, typing at McDonald’s, along Pearl Drive–in the same building where I used to work some 3 years ago. Last night, or rather, up until this morning at 4:00am, I had been partying my socks off at The Linden Suites with my colleagues. It feels surprisingly pleasant to be here, like I came full circle. Like there’s an important lesson to be learned somewhere between the Sausage McMuffin and the cup of hot choco.
Of course there’s breakfast at the hotel, but come on, though there has certainly been a lot of progress in my “financial situation” from the time I worked here as a writer for Offshoring, I’m still the type to skip the fancy breakfast. Nah, I’m fine with my tray of golden arches junk chow. And it certainly brightened up my day that some of their crew from three years ago are still here. A familiar smile from a familiar girl at the cash register. Some things just never change and thank the heavens for them for they make you feel at home in a cozy corner of your memories.
There used to be a girl here with me. A girl who made me feel like I belonged; like I need not do any more–crack a joke, say something irreverent, mind my hair, or wrap a gift perhaps; a girl who just sat with me at a table in McDonald’s or Chowking or Sarah’s. And everything was all right. But today, I sit at this table alone. And it gets harder to escape the onslaught of memories and flutters of that beating thing.
I guess what I realized last night, or this morning, is that I’ve been working so hard to return to this place where I once felt perfectly ok with the universe, Mayan apocalypse or not. I’ve been living on the edge of healthy living and common decency just to be the man I once was and find the girl I once knew. But there will never be anyone like her again and maybe I will never be the same again. We made a unique drunken breakfast together and nobody could replicate that. And with that thought in my head, I surrender to the futility of this effort.
I’ll still party my socks off but I’ll be more patient. Somebody will come someday and she’ll change me again. But it’s good to know some things just never change, like this fast food place or my emotional shit–and thank the heavens for them for they make me feel at home in a cozy corner of my memories.