Some nights there are far too many hours between when the bar lets out and when the cemetery opens up. Those are the nights bad things can happen. Those are the nights when your best bet is calling up a friend and admitting “I can’t be alone tonight.”
Some nights you need that friend, or any friend for that matter. Someone who will be a gatekeeper protecting you from yourself. Someone who won’t ask you for much more.
It’s past 4:00 AM, it’s been one of those nights. I rode home from the bar I bartend at, to my condo, and kept going. I rode on to visit my father, even though I knew I couldn’t. I checked the hours posted on the gate when I got there. The cemetery wouldn’t be open for another four hours. “I’ll see you soon, Dad.” I wasn’t ready to be home alone.
Some nights you live in a city of three million people and can’t find any of them. The one fellow traveler you do come across inevitably ends up traveling the same single lane road as you, in the same direction as you, driving under the speed limit.
Some nights you keep riding anyway, even when exhaustion has kicked in making you feel cold. When you do finally give in and pull over, your phone warns you it has 25% battery left. Time to reach out to someone before its too late. That’s the only way to stop bad things from happening.
Some nights you apologize for calling so late, and the next words out of your mouth are “I can’t be alone tonight.”
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I miss you.
Sent from my iPhone.