For the first time in 20 years (or at least I think it’s the first time) I will miss the 4th of July party that my friends and their parents host. They weren’t sure if they were going to have it this year. A week or two ago they said it was back on. These are friends I made through my ex-wife. She and I met in in July of 1999, so the first party I went to was the July 2000 party. It’s always been a lot of fun. They always had a lot of fireworks – professional grade stuff. One year they blew up a bunch of different things (a cake and I think a part of a watermelon). There was always a lot of beer and a lot of people. One year my daughter burned her hand picking up a spent, but still hot sparkler – she never did that again. Some years we were there ’til pretty late at night / early in the morning. One year, watching my daughter run around and play and feeling a bit overwhelmed by the connectedness I was feeling, I decided that I had a pretty good life and good family and I began to question why I had been holding out on embracing those things more fully. That was when I decided I would propose to my my wife. Nearly ten years later, we had decided to get divorced – we went to the party together and quietly told some of our friends (the next day I helped her move out and into an apartment). At the 2018 party my friends met the woman who would become my fiancee. We were no longer together for the 2019 party. This year, I’m in Memphis. Over the years, the group grew smaller. Friends had moved further away or had things to do with their kids. There was always a core group that would show – these are the ones I was having zoom happy hours with.
I was having a rough night the other night. I can never predict when I’ll miss my ex or what might trigger it. Even when I think deeply about things and when I feel ticked at her, I always find myself coming back to a place of compassion and this deep sense that we could have worked through anything together. Either out of laziness or boredom or…. I don’t know what, I took the last two days off from my daily writing. I’ve still gone on long, contemplative walks – though nothing ever seems to get worked out on them. I’m still reading Eat, Pray, Love. I mentioned it to my friend Stacy. She thought it was a bit pretentious too. The story has gotten a little better. At times I identify with what the author is saying, but I don’t find myself feeling sympathy for her. I just finished a section in which she breaks down crying because she’s ending things (for good this time) with a former lover. At times, they would recognize that they weren’t good for each other, but would consider just trying to find a way to make it work. It seems like most people I know or read about want to find ways to make things work – even things that are pretty bad. This of course bums me out because I feel like I fell in love with the one woman who couldn’t see past her own unhappiness to all of the good things that we had; who couldn’t find a way to try to make it work. And while I don’t think I’d want to be in something that had lots of falling outs and breakups (I think my one friend is trying for 4th time with her boyfriend), I think we were worth another go. I suspect I’ll never understand getting engaged, moving in, and then walking out like that.
As I walked this morning, I thought about independence. I didn’t think of it in the national holiday sort of way, but thought of it in the personal way. Independence from my recent past. Independence from some of the things that hold me back. That’s what I thought I would write about when I got home from my walk. Then I remembered that I’d be passing by a farmer’s market. I stopped and overpaid for a bunch of things. I don’t mind because I know I’m supporting local merchants, and quite honestly, everything was delicious. I bought a loaf of Italian herb bread that’s made by a bakery that employs people at $15 and hour as they try to move from homelessness to being self-sufficient. I had the bread with some oil and pepper and some tomatoes as part of my lunch. I followed it with a juicy peach and a few blackberries that I also got from the market. There’s something to be said for eating clean and simple and local. Independence from a grocery store….
I’m hoping I can get back in to a groove in so far as writing. I find myself surfing twitter and google news a lot more than I was. And maybe the reading I’m doing isn’t helping – it’s ok, but I’m not sure I’d call it inspiring. It does validate some of what I feel, so there’s that.
Last night I went out to an outside patio bar to hear some music. It’s at a hotel called Central Station. Inside they have a DJ who plays a lot of Memphis soul music. It’s in an old grand marble train station. It’s music themed with cool decor. Hearing live music made me want to go to a show and hear a good blues band. Here’s the sunset from the patio bar and a picture of their speaker wall inside, and because cats… a picture of Nick lounging on the patio as I write this post. I think that’s all I got for now.
