So the snow fell and the power went out. To be perfectly honest, I didn't expect it to be as bad as it was. I had planned an evening of bouncing around, checking out some Halloween costumes, then off to bed, with the hopes of a full day of football. Then the lights went out. I went out to see if any of my watering holes were open to shed some light on the evening, but the signs all read "closed." I came back to the dark confines of my apartment and quickly my phone died and then my computer, my lone source of light, started to fade. I turned it off and laid in bed. For five hours, I sat in sheer darkness. Alone, like so many other nights, with my thoughts.
I thought about how maybe a mile away, a young girl sips her vodka and tonic as a man across the bar stares, wondering what she might be like in bed. How an older couple, decided to hop in the car and take refuge at a restaurant with hopes the power might be on when they came home. Or how a family of four hit the movie theater a few towns over for a little distraction from the woes the storm had caused. More than any of those things, I thought about me. I thought about the loneliness of laying in the dark. Not a candle or flashlight to be found. Alone, laying under the warm comforter. This time, not by choice.
I spent hours thinking about a short while ago, thinking about many years ago and thinking about my childhood and the times there was no power, but I wasn't alone. I thought about how, despite the inconvenience of having no light in which to see, the heightened awareness that came from it. I thought about the sounds of fire engines when the city went black as a child. The sound of people sitting on their Brooklyn stoops, drinking and smoking, chatting about the magnitude of a city under darkness and how they personally didn't have a care in the world. I thought about later years, dining by candlelight with my parents. Meeting friends out at a bar for cold beers, plunged into mounds of ice, acting as if this was business as usual and I thought about the most recent time on that Sunday evening, when the lights really didn't matter.
I thought about friends of mine, close and not. I thought about a girl, I once kissed and how much it meant to me at the time and how wrong it was and how it probably meant something then, but nothing now. I reread an e-mail in my head, this time reading between the lines and felt fault. I retraced steps of where I've gone wrong in so many ways and thought how given the opportunity, I'd probably make those same mistakes. I thought about my father and grandmother and how much I look forward to seeing them. I looked at mental pictures of people I have no actual pictures with. They're out of focus and my memory is blurred, like so much of my past.
The hours went on and thoughts of lives and loves that have made a difference to me. It's funny how so many people, who I've spent countless hours with have had such little impact on my life, but some who passed, ever so briefly have given me lasting memories. I thought about a friend who was just a friend and wondered what would have happened if I had just asked. My mind raced around to people I know, young and old and the odd things that have happened along the way. I thought about how my life would have been different if my morals and ethics didn't always get in the way. I wondered how things would be different if I'd pursued friends and lovers the way that so many others do. Without a care in the world for that person's feelings. I wondered what it would be like to be that person. I thought about that briefly and then thought to myself; I'd rather be lonely and at peace with who I am, than to be surrounded, but lonely inside.
As the hours went by and my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I thought about how a blind person must see the world. To be accustomed to waking up without sight. I tried to imagine that. I imagined the smell of someone's body lotion. That smell, I quickly grew accustomed to as they sat next to me getting dressed. That subtle fruit fragrance, mixed with the cream they applied. I thought about their smooth as silk skin and how I loved that feeling. I thought about that one dry spot on their back, they couldn't reach. My hands always found their way to that spot, maybe to remind me it wasn't a dream. I thought about the soft purr of their breathe as they slept next to me. That soothing sound that let me know that they were really there. I thought about how they tasted as I kissed them. How even without sight, I could fall in love all over and how this is what draws us in to people. There is something about everyone we've ever been with or fell for. It's always at first sight, but it's the one's who tingle all the other senses that we love. It's not only people, it's everything. It's the smells and tastes of mom's cooking. It's the sounds and touch of a cat laying on top of you purring. It means so much. We depend on sight for everything, but once we get past the aesthetic beauty of things, is when we truly begin to love.
I sat in the dark for five hours and I've never seen so clearly.
I thought about how maybe a mile away, a young girl sips her vodka and tonic as a man across the bar stares, wondering what she might be like in bed. How an older couple, decided to hop in the car and take refuge at a restaurant with hopes the power might be on when they came home. Or how a family of four hit the movie theater a few towns over for a little distraction from the woes the storm had caused. More than any of those things, I thought about me. I thought about the loneliness of laying in the dark. Not a candle or flashlight to be found. Alone, laying under the warm comforter. This time, not by choice.
I spent hours thinking about a short while ago, thinking about many years ago and thinking about my childhood and the times there was no power, but I wasn't alone. I thought about how, despite the inconvenience of having no light in which to see, the heightened awareness that came from it. I thought about the sounds of fire engines when the city went black as a child. The sound of people sitting on their Brooklyn stoops, drinking and smoking, chatting about the magnitude of a city under darkness and how they personally didn't have a care in the world. I thought about later years, dining by candlelight with my parents. Meeting friends out at a bar for cold beers, plunged into mounds of ice, acting as if this was business as usual and I thought about the most recent time on that Sunday evening, when the lights really didn't matter.
I thought about friends of mine, close and not. I thought about a girl, I once kissed and how much it meant to me at the time and how wrong it was and how it probably meant something then, but nothing now. I reread an e-mail in my head, this time reading between the lines and felt fault. I retraced steps of where I've gone wrong in so many ways and thought how given the opportunity, I'd probably make those same mistakes. I thought about my father and grandmother and how much I look forward to seeing them. I looked at mental pictures of people I have no actual pictures with. They're out of focus and my memory is blurred, like so much of my past.
The hours went on and thoughts of lives and loves that have made a difference to me. It's funny how so many people, who I've spent countless hours with have had such little impact on my life, but some who passed, ever so briefly have given me lasting memories. I thought about a friend who was just a friend and wondered what would have happened if I had just asked. My mind raced around to people I know, young and old and the odd things that have happened along the way. I thought about how my life would have been different if my morals and ethics didn't always get in the way. I wondered how things would be different if I'd pursued friends and lovers the way that so many others do. Without a care in the world for that person's feelings. I wondered what it would be like to be that person. I thought about that briefly and then thought to myself; I'd rather be lonely and at peace with who I am, than to be surrounded, but lonely inside.
As the hours went by and my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I thought about how a blind person must see the world. To be accustomed to waking up without sight. I tried to imagine that. I imagined the smell of someone's body lotion. That smell, I quickly grew accustomed to as they sat next to me getting dressed. That subtle fruit fragrance, mixed with the cream they applied. I thought about their smooth as silk skin and how I loved that feeling. I thought about that one dry spot on their back, they couldn't reach. My hands always found their way to that spot, maybe to remind me it wasn't a dream. I thought about the soft purr of their breathe as they slept next to me. That soothing sound that let me know that they were really there. I thought about how they tasted as I kissed them. How even without sight, I could fall in love all over and how this is what draws us in to people. There is something about everyone we've ever been with or fell for. It's always at first sight, but it's the one's who tingle all the other senses that we love. It's not only people, it's everything. It's the smells and tastes of mom's cooking. It's the sounds and touch of a cat laying on top of you purring. It means so much. We depend on sight for everything, but once we get past the aesthetic beauty of things, is when we truly begin to love.
I sat in the dark for five hours and I've never seen so clearly.
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