The Flaming Brunch: A success!
Just got back about twenty minutes ago. Beer flowed like water, one of those weird second-wind nights where you feel like you could drink forever. Burgers, stuffed grilled peppers, brauts, hot dogs, turkey burgers, tofu burgers, cake, ice cream, guac, chips, pretzels, and countless others sat upon the table. Somewhere along the line, my Blueberry Pie and Whipped Cream got lost in the shuffle.
Lots of "Cornhole" (beanbags and wooden boxes with a hole cut in it), some softball (ah, a spectator sport for me), and Frisbee. The beauty of having a public park as your backyard. Beer in a park in the sun and shade is a great relaxation. Grass and leaves and 3 dogs running around. Little Amelia stealing the scene; a mom and her daughter laughing in the grass, my heart ached a little for things I'll never have.
Beer followed beer, did I finish that 12 pack? No, at least, Ab-B had a few. Ab-B, so pretty and cool, I love looking at her little chin and face. Another I'll never kiss. So many years without conversation, but she tries; I just stammer in the face of beauty. She lives now with her boyfriend, so that should loosen my tongue. Always easiest to talk to the unattainable.
Broke out in hives. Wondered why. It's because C.C. is asking me about therapy and something else. I switch the conversation to mutual friends on Friendster. Past pals come to light, she keeps in touch with the past, bringing it into present. I keep the past in the past, and this is not always a good thing.
I laugh over and over all throughout the day. Day turns into night and the park lights come on. They shine over the park in a strange greenish glow. We play more "Cornhole." I win two games, but lose the last one. Ab-B gets better as the beer flows and the beanbags throw. She wears brownish-green, but glows in the park lights.
We've said good-bye to J.W. and L.W. They are moving to Indiana Monday. Sad to see them go just as I've set my sights on becoming part of the fold again. They said they'd see us in a month, a house-warming party in July?
Amelia steals my heart. Two years old almost with wavy black hair. Chubby cheeks and a grunting laugh. Watching her and S. and B., I can almost see me being a daddy someday. To love a little, unconditional love. I yearn for that on so many levels. Yet push it away.
Home. I throw in some White Stripes and sit on the back porch, sipping one last Beck's before bed. I watch and listen to groups of people head home or to parties. A Hispanic couple carry two cases of Corona, a group of black kids laugh as they walk toward the park, a large black guy yells at his shorter friend that he shouldn't have told his Uncle that shit, and a mom and dad walk back from a grocery store. I sit and drink on the porch and wish someone sat next to me.
I realize the booze coats the pain. I feel like I could drink for another twelve hours.
But I won't.