Zona

Sitting on the roof I can only see half of the next door neighbor's yard. Her little dogs walk in and out of view and are quiet. The neighbor on the other side has fruit trees sporting dark green spheres that are all now the same size but in a few months will become different sizes of yellows and orange. The hop over the wall will put them in my reach when they're not home. They don't mind anyway. Heck, I've been watering the trees all summer like he showed me.

My world is still very small and my close friends are few. One day the world will get big and still my friends will be few. I will always wonder why that is but I will never worry about it.

But now it is time to get down off the roof before dad gets home.

I would grow into a very introspective man who measures time in increments of years and reminisces of smiles and flavors and how he thought it felt even if it was embellished by feelings of longing for the past.

Ten years ago this month I was transported across the country to come to land on a magical spot in South Carolina known as Charleston. The air hung heavy with an aura of surrealism and warm southern charm. Alone in a new place that embraces strangers who invite embrace.

Dinner with friends and a lit cigar as we strolled downtown in the evening. Weekends off like normal people and golf every Saturday.

Charleston was my last long period of adulthood where I was alone. An island in the middle of a marriage and child raising. It may not have been something I was deserving of and it may have been a very selfish thing to do but it was a glorious 4 months.