Tonight I’m far far away, sitting at a table alone, on a deck on the waterway somewhere in Miami on a late summer day. There’s an umbrella over my head, and the sun is bright but not too hot. An occasional breeze wanders by, strokes my hair and for a moment eases the loneliness.
It’s not too crowded, and I catch snatches of conversations, lovers making plans, friends laughing at jokes, old people remembering absent companions. I’m with them, but then again I’m not. I’m in the moment but not of it.
There’s a musician entertaining the crowd, with a guitar and a Spanish song about a simpler life. I don’t understand all the words, but I hear the emotions and I understand enough: life and love and family in a world where things are just a little more permanent than they really are.
And if anyone notices me I’m just a man sitting alone having a drink and soaking in a beautiful day. Maybe I’m waiting for someone, or maybe I’m really alone. Or maybe I’m not really here, I’m far away, in a future time, merely looking back and remembering one snippet of a moment that has no name, no label… and can’t be recreated except in the smoke of a dream.
Another breeze happens by, and I lean my head back and close my eyes, and for the briefest of times I breathe all of this in, everything, everyone… but then I have to exhale and the moment is gone.
But before it fades completely I feel the road that leads here, and the road that leads away, and maybe I’m thinking of who I’d like to bring with me when I visit again, and the miles won’t seem so long, and the distance won’t seem so far, and the moment won’t seem so brief.