Friday, July 26, 2013

I'm Totally NOT Complaining But

I just read this post by Wandering Arbitrator and it hearkened me back to those very special times when Tova and I, just at that breaking point, would just pack a bag, jump in a car and go....somewhere.  Anywhere.  With whatever funds I could steal from my house (I don't think my mother ever realized I was stealing from her purse.  She probably assumed she spent more on lunch than she realized.) 

And drove.

That feeling when you jump on The Thruway/95/Route 17 with no real destination in mind, radio blasting, windows rolled down, screaming along with Pink Floyd ("Careful with that ax, Eugene, AHHHHHHHHHH"), The Smashing Pumpkins ("Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage"), The Allman Brothers ("but I'm not gonna let them catch me no, not gonna let them catch the midnight rider") and countless other open window road songs.

And it's all windblown hair and new-mown grass and teenage angst in the car, as the road opens and the temperature suddenly drops as a summer storm blows through.  The thrill of pulling into a dingy diner and ordering drinks among the very people your parents don't ever want you to associate with.  Checking into a flea bag motel and debating for ten minutes if you can touch anything in the room and pleasetellmetthatstainonthesheetisn'twhatIthinkitis.

But it's also pulling off the road at Tochahowika State park (yes I made that name up) and randomly hiking some trail or finding a lake and just jumping in.  It's lying on a field of grass, maybe under the most magnificent tree you have ever seen, and reading a shitty mystery novel that is just the thing.  It's laying on a short stretch of rocky sand which makes up a "beach" on the shore of North South Lake or wherever you happen to be.

It's about not having a care or worry in the world, at least for two or three days.

These are the things you do when you are young and unhappy and unattached.  When it's you and your best friend vs. the World.  And for once, the World isn't winning.

I miss this. 

I know, I know.  What the fuck Cymbaline.  You are married and happy and you have certainly upgraded your ability to stay in places where the only flea is when the red Hot Chili Peppers are performing on TV. I'm not complaining. really I'm not. 

But that doesn't mean I can't miss something from a different part of my life.

Te other day I wrote about lost youth.  i certainly wasn't writing about my own shitty childhood.  i was speaking very generically.  But when you are 40 and marred with 4 kids, you are still allowed to miss those care free days no?

I have much less to miss.  I don't miss fighting with my mother, indoctrination in school, hanging with the wrong sorts of people, doing drugs or screwing too much.  But dammit, i miss impromptu road trips with my only friend at the time.  And sometimes i miss my only friend too.

Tova and I started talking again.  It's not the same, nor will it ever be.  We are both of us in different places now.  We are both in better places now, mentally and physically.  Our friendship was fed by pain and suffering and with that gone its fire, while still glowing embers, lacks the fuel to become the fiery bonfire it once was.  We both recognize this and I think we are both ok with it.

Monday and Tuesday are big days for us at work.  A 2 month long explosion is culminating.  After that, hopefully David and I will be falling prey to the siren's song of the open road. 

The only difference is that we now book in advance.

No comments:

Post a Comment