It doesn’t take too much to be happy. Not much money and not much effort at all. My family was happy again while visiting Sarasota for the second time this year in July. I saw honest and pure smiles on my wife’s face. My kid was happy, too. He’s changed over the last twenty-four hours for the best. This is the place to be. This is the place to live and enjoy and be happy. Happy as one can be happy. This place, a thousand miles from our home, at the very South of the continent, is surrounded by water, alligators, snakes, golf courses, and the best beaches with the whitest sand surrounded by the warmest ocean with the most magnificent sunsets in the country, feels more like home than anything else. I fell in love with this place years ago, and every year, I cannot wait to come back there to just simply enjoy it. I think I found my home. It is here. It is in this ocean, in palms, in the humid air, sunshine, and the ocean breeze. My family loves to come down here. This place became part of my family tradition. This place became our new home. We are simply happy here. Period.
This year has been an interesting one, to say the least. Everything went a downward spiral, and I went down with it. I got fired yet again in early March and have been looking for a job since. The job search was, and pretty much has always been, a miserable experience. You are selling your soul to these corporate assholes for a stable paycheck and job security, and you try to stay optimistic and enthusiastic because you have to, and maybe somebody will say yes. Most of the time, you end up rejected. That is my story. Somehow I don’t feel like joining the workforce because I know sooner or later, I will get fucked over, fed up with all their nonsense and politics. I’ll be getting miserable waking up every morning hating my life, as the job is eating into my life, and the manic depression would settle over my head like the dark clouds before the hurricane. All those jobs, in my experience, ended similarly. There is no happy ending. There is no ending to that day-to-day working misery. It is always there. Fuck, how much I hate it all.
But the Gods were nice to me recently and gave me another chance. I’ve got another opportunity to prove myself in the corporate environment. I’ve got a new job at last. What will I do and how? I don’t know yet. Is that place the right place for me? I don’t know either. But I will be there. I will try yet again to make something work. I will try to do my best at it, and hopefully, if the stars align for me, I will make my history there and leave my mark. I hope everything is going to be alright. There is no reason to be upset. I am not upset at all. I am happy. I am happy because of this new chance and because I had another chance to spend time in my spiritual home, Sarasota, Florida.
In about two weeks, our lives will change. The change is inevitable, and it is coming, and we are expecting it to come and disrupt our family’s time together. I realize that as much time as I spent with my wife and kid this year, I will probably not have an opportunity anymore. In two weeks, each of us will have to follow our own direction, and our lives will be different. We are still a family, but life is about to happen, and it is about time to move on to the next stage of our lives. It is a healthy way of living. It is the way modern life works. We live here, and we have to follow those rules. There is no other way. I hope this change will be a great motivator for us, will bring us closer, and will make our time together even more pleasurable and precious. I know it will. I started to value my free time and my time with family only after I had the least amount of time to enjoy them. I cherished every minute spent, every occasion, every moment together. Sadly, when time is all we have and when you have all the time in the world, you don’t know what to do with it. It is only after the fact that you realize that there is not much time to spend on family quality time, and you know that you should focus on that more.
I am glad and fortunate that we are doing our best to be together and enjoy our life together. This is why we were in Florida again, and we were so happy there. I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t have any positive or negative inspiration for the future, as I know too many things I just cannot control. But what I can control is today. I can control how I behave in all those situations and make my way out of all the pitfalls. I can control my present to the best of my abilities and make it something great to think and feel about in the coming years. Then I can look back retrospectively and reminisce about the good old days when I wasn’t prioritizing the modern society’s norms and all those rules of the establishment, and where I wasn’t concerned about the money or job situation, but I was simply focused on making the best of what I have and genuinely enjoy it.
Today, I am making my own history. Today, the history of my family is being made. I am in control of my life and my family’s life. I am trying to do my best to create all those great moments for us to remember, to make us better together, and to love, cherish, respect, and value every minute of our family time. And I think we are doing just great. So long as we are together, so long…
He checked into Hampton Inn by Hilton in Florence, South Carolina, around 10 pm. He had to, and it was getting late. The highway was endless and pitch dark, his vision was getting blurry, and his head was starting to spin from driving all day. Rightfully so, he’s been driving from Florida for nearly nine hours straight, and it was only halfway to his hometown, Philadelphia. Nothing and nobody was waiting for him in Philadelphia besides a bunch of problems, frustration, depression, bad old memories, and the cold grey days which ate him alive slowly. Mark McGuire was at one point the greatest living writer in Philadelphia, turning into the greatest suffering and mediocre alcoholic. The lady luck wasn’t on his side this time.
Writers are better writers when they genuinely suffer; the more they suffer, the better their writing becomes. It was true for Mark. After a month of trying to find his muse in Florida under the bright warm sun, basking on the beach every day didn’t help him much. Somehow it was harder to write in that environment. Mark would wake up early, brew some coffee and sit in front of his laptop, wondering why his writing wasn’t coming to him. Back home in Philly, he wasn’t even thinking about that. Once his laptop was on, the writing came to his pages. It might not be the best of his writing, but it was something. He knew it. He knew he had to stay consistent. He knew he had to do his homework. It will be hard to outperform his previous legendary work, but there was always a bit of hope for him to get there. He was good at writing everything poetry, prose, blog rants, and pretty much anything while living and suffering in Philadelphia. The main problem was that he hated that place and all its people. This could be why he had so much on his mind, which came out of him in a sentence form on the page.
His retreat in Florida did solve, however, one problem. His anxiety went away. It was diminished almost completely. He wasn’t the angry middle-aged man anymore. There was some sense of balance and relaxed vibes about him. He felt it. He was relaxed, and his mind was of so much shit he usually had to deal with daily for a very long time. Even though he wasn’t that productive in Florida, he did write something. A few pieces were not much, but they were shaped perfectly. He needed to figure out where to take the storyline, but what he did have was a great beginning of something that could turn big. Something that might bring his name and fame back on the bookshelves in America and Europe. Who knows? This might be just it.
Hampton Inn and Suites was pretty quiet inside the lobby, and there was almost nobody there except the receptionist. She greeted him warmly and asked how she could help. Mark asked for the room. The king-sized bed was alright. On the first floor, no problem. She rang him up. He paid and went over to his room. It felt like his feet were not his anymore. They felt like they weren’t really listening to his mind. Somebody might think that he was drunk. Who cares? He was too tired to think about it too much. He just needed the rest, the shower, and a pillow under his head. The room was very conveniently located, not too far from the side exit, which was perfect since Mark could get back to his car and bring his stuff over. He also thought that this would be very convenient to go outside for a smoke. The gym room was right around the corner, but no energy was left in him for a workout.
He opened the room and, entering, flipped the switch on. The room was nicely designed and smelled fresh. He looked around with great satisfaction because he liked what he saw. The room was immaculate and well-designed. It felt like you wanted to stay there and chill. There was a bathroom to his right and the TV set to his left, and across in the middle of the room was the king-sized bed. There was also some sort of a reading nook with a lamp hanging over it. This would be perfect for writing and reading something tonight. I might even write something in this room, thought Mark. Like the good old guys, staying at some random hotel room late at night in the middle of nowhere, trying to get his worlds and soul on paper. He put his bag down and turned on the light everywhere. Shower first, he thought, and started unzipping his bag.
The bathroom looked pristine and modern. It has anything one might need in the hotel room. After the shower, Mark felt a bit more relaxed and refreshed. He looked at himself through the stimmed foggy from the hot water mirror. Man, you’ve come a long way, he said. Where are you going next? It was more of a rhetorical question he asked himself. There were things that he needed to think about and some priorities to set.
He had a sandwich in his bag and a beer with a small bag of Doritos he had just bought at a local gas station. This will be my dinner, he thought. He was hungry. It was too late to eat that kind of stuff, and he never tried to get his belly full before bedtime, but he didn’t care. I’ll eat this, and then I can relax and read, maybe write something, or maybe I’ll just watch some bad night TV? There was always something useless to watch on TV every time you turned it on. Whether you wanted to watch it or not was another question. Just something to kill time and switch the brains off for a brief moment.
Mark was alone and lonely. Not just in this hotel room but in life. Since his wife divorced him and his latest girlfriend was tired of babysitting him, he just ran solo. There was nothing wrong with being alone. It was liberating in the way. He could think straight now and focus more on his writing with fewer interruptions. But still, something felt missing. He was still searching for it.
He heard voices in the next room. They were man’s and woman’s voices and laughter. He saw a young lady walking into the room next to him earlier. There was somebody with her. They laughed, and Mark didn’t pay too much attention to it. Then it was quiet, and then the moans began. They were very passionate about it. The girl was not hiding anything and gave it all out. Mark could hear her very honest, loud, and unapologetic moans. He wished he would have somebody over. He wished he would be in that room with that girl right now, making her sound like that. The moans continued for the next five minutes before breaking into total silence. It was over. Now they both were satisfied. Mark imagined them lying in bed looking at the ceiling, out of breath, sweaty and happy, just looking and breathing loudly with satisfaction. I need a smoke, he thought and walked outside.
It has been a quiet night outside, and it felt pleasant regardless of the humidity. Mark pulled his cigarette out and lit it. He inhaled the organic tobacco deeply and exhaled the thick white smoke into the night sky. The cloud of smoke went up and over his head and into the air, moving slowly and heavily. Mark inhaled again and exhaled with a feeling of satisfaction and calm. This stuff will kill you, Mark, he thought to himself. Life will kill you, was the internal response he gave himself. That was true. You never know what to expect or not to expect these days. One day everything goes smoothly. Another, all the shit hits the fan, a wall, or something else. And then you find yourself with your back against the wall, gasping for another chance for another breath, trying to survive and live just a little bit longer. There was nobody in the parking lot except for Mark, which allowed him to focus on his thoughts. It has been a while since he could think in peace and quiet and evaluate his life situation. Many things needed to be worked out.
Yes, he wished for a comeback. Yes, he wanted to be loved again. Yes, the middle-life crisis was a real thing. Yes, Mark wanted to be a great writer again now or soon, not in the past. He was tired of trying to live up to his past. The past was good to him on the one hand and not so much on the other. He had it both ways. He’s been poor and broke, rich and famous, and now he’s just lost almost everything. The greatest living writer was drowning in his life and his bullshit with no way out. The people will wait, and the fans will stay if they care enough. Who knows if anybody still cares? Mark cares. But does anybody else care about what Mark cares? There was a shitstorm of thoughts moving through his mind while tobacco smoke was moving through his lungs. The “Don’t close your eyes” song by Kix repeatedly played in his mind. He’d listened to that song dozens of times while on the road. There was something in this depressing music and the lyrics that would cheer one up during the hard times. This one was helping Mark and making him feel like he’s not alone and other people are also in the fucked up situations. This thought calmed his shit down for a moment.
He finished his cigarette and exhaled the last cloud of smoke into the air. The lonely figure on the parking lot at night, full of his thoughts and nicotine, looking into the sky, asking for another chance. You’ll get it, Mark. Just wait. Just wait and write something and you’ll see the fans will be back, you can get your life back, and you can feel much better and appreciated like never before. You will be a great writer again, if not better. Just trust this feeling. Stay hopeful, you moron.
He went back into his room. The room looked empty and lonely. His laptop sat on the writing desk with the corner lamp on. It reminded Mark that he could use a bit of the time he had in this room to write. There is no better place to focus on writing than the hotel room, where you are all alone with no distractions and nobody who can disturb you, especially at night. He returned to the desk, turned the laptop on, and opened a new word document. The worlds came to him in no time, and he secured them all on his pages. One word after another, one line after another, he was getting somewhere. He knew this was his chance to stay productive. He once wrote about a successful writer trying to find his purpose and return to his writing, much like Mark these days. He was busy writing for another forty minutes, then he hit the bump. He looked around and up at the ceiling, thinking, I need to spice this up a bit. I need to get out there and get something to write about. You can only write so much about being lonely in a hotel room. He decided to go out. There were a bunch of restaurants and bars in the area, and there could be his luck somewhere. There could be his next story in one of those bars or restaurants, waiting for Mark to discover it.
The feeling of being tired went away quickly. Mark was ready to go out and see the local nightlife and live some life. This could be a good thing too. I am a stranger in a new city far away from home. There are some moments I can capture, he thought. The Hampton Inn was located in a very touristy area in Florence, and there were many other hotels, restaurants, and bars around. This area seemed like you could go out and not worry about getting into trouble. Mark went into the bar close to the hotel.
There were many people for the late hour of eleven o’clock at night in the middle of the week. All those people are probably tourists just traveling by or staying in South Carolina on their vacations. The bar had dimmed lighting inside. There was a small round table across the room, and bar seats were available. The pool table is in the far right corner, and a few people are at it. Quite a few people were sitting at the bar, and Mark decided to join them.
“Blue label, please,” he ordered a shot of his favorite scotch. The bartender nodded his head and turned around for the bottle. Mark looked to his side. Some women were sitting there, couples, some singles as well.
“How is it going?” The fellow to this right asked. He was pretty lit by that time, and since nobody was sitting to him this close, he decided to talk to Mark.
“It’s alright, man. How have you been?” Asked Mark, sounding disinterested.
“Going well, man, just taking it easy. It’s been a long week for me, you know?” “No, I did not know that, but I feel your pain, buddy.” Something about those lonely people at the bar who are always trying to share their shit with strangers. Mark never liked talking to anybody, but now this guy was stealing his attention.
“I was driving a truck from California and was on my way home and broke. The fucking repairs are taking a week to two weeks. There is nothing else for me to do. I am behind schedule, and the delivery has now been reassigned to another driver. Just coming here to this bar and getting loaded. You know? Fuck I hate when my truck breaks down. What can I do right? While I’m stuck here, I might take it easy and drink.
“Yeh, man, sorry to hear about that,” said Mark with a grin on his face. “At least you can relax and take it easy at the bar. Eventually, you’ll be back on the road, working again.”
“That’s right, man. Ok, I got to get out of here. I think I’ve got my doze by now. I’ll see you around, man. Take care.” He left some tips on the bar table and went slowly to the bathroom before leaving the bar.
Mark drank his scotch while watching a TV screen in front of him. He was glad the guy didn’t hang at this bar for too long, and he wouldn’t have to listen to his misfortunes. He was now alone, a loner in the strange City, in the strange bar, too far away from home. In these situations, you feel like you’re a ghost. You are here, and nobody knows who you are. Nobody really pays any attention to you. You came and left with no return to this place. It was almost perfect.
Then this woman came into the bar with her girlfriend and sat there. Mark glanced and nodded at them, like hey, hello, I saw you coming in and thought I’d say Hi. They made the same gesture in response. There was some laughter and some conversations that the two were so deeply involved in. Mark minded his own business sipping on his scotch. After a while, the two ladies approached him and said Hi. This was surprising, but it was also good to be around. Mark smiled back with this charming smile and introduced himself.
“Oh, you are Mark McGuire?! I cannot believe it. Lora, look, this is him, the famous writer! Wow, what a surprise! I thought you were just a random handsome, lonely guy sitting at the bar at night and looking for company.” Lady giggled and showed their white teeth through their smiles, looking at each other and Mark, laughing silly.
“And all of that was true, except for the “famous writer” thing. I’m still working on it. But thank you, very pleased to meet you as well, ladies.” Mark felt that now he must live up to his fucking image. One of these ladies was clearly into him. She was a fan. He was trying not to be involved with his fans. However, it was hard to manage since he was so famous and some women he couldn’t ignore. He had to have them and enjoy them while they came.
“The pleasure is all ours, Mark. I have read all your books. I wonder if there is a writer these days in America who can write well as you do. Something about your particular writing and its tone and realism just attracts the reader to the story and the book. And then you find yourself reading it straight through the night, and I love it.”
“I’m always glad to know that people are or have been enjoying my books. I was working on each and every one of them really hard. Not so much harder lately, but back then, back in the day, I was on fire! Thank you, though.”
“Do you mind a little company?”
“Make yourself at home, please,” said Mark. This night might not be so dull and lonely anymore. His writing will suffer, but he has to live his life too. He needs this. His writing needs this. His little writer’s soul needs this. To live. To create. And to fuck.
The next couple of hours at the bar went by quickly. Mark found out that the two women also staying in the same hotel as he. What a coincidence! One of the women gave him his room number on the way out. This is another fucking night of adventure in his lonely writer’s life worth living for. Great, Mark thought. I need to take it easy and relax. It’s been a long fucking ride home, and more is still ahead. The chances are high that I will be stopping by that room tonight.
He didn’t remember what led to this and how he ended up in the next-door hotel. It was one of those mornings when you feel every cell in your brain vibrating, but you are happy because you know it was worth it. It definitely was. The two naked women from the bar next to him were on the bed, sleeping peacefully. What a night, he thought?! Who would ever imagine I would wind up here? He looked around the room. It was a large room with a king-sized bed. There were leftover beer bottles with snacks and cigarettes all over the table. They sure got a great time last night. Fuck, Mark thought, it is time to get the fuck out of here before everyone awakes. They might wake up with no recollection of what the fuck happened last night. They may say it was all my fault. Or whatever might come up, I don’t want to suffer through this shit.
He got out of bed and picked up his clothes, scattered all over the floor. It reminded him of some sort of aftermath in a crazy sex-movie scene. He picked up a beer bottle and drank as much as possible in one shot. It felt so great and refreshing. Even the warmed-up beer felt great at the moment. Mark thought the beer was going straight into his head, and the last night’s buzz was resurfacing and hitting him in his brain again.
He left the room quietly. I need to get to my room now. He took the elevator down and walked down the hall toward his room. The hotel felt a bit strange, but he wasn’t too concerned. His entire life felt very strange as well. He tried the key, and it didn’t work. He tried a few more times, but clearly, something wasn’t right. If it feels wrong, it might be wrong, Mark. He went to the lobby and saw a lady at the reception. He wanted to come to her for a moment and ask about the key not working, but somebody had just entered the hotel and went straight towards the reception desk. Let me get some smoke first, Mark thought.
Where the fuck am I, he thought, standing in the parking lot. This is not the hotel I registered in, and where the fuck is my car? My car was parked right outside the side door. Shit. I am at the wrong hotel. He walked around the building, checking the nearby places. There were five hotels in this area, one next to another. He looked up and saw the Marriott sign on this building. Yeh, definitely not my hotel. He walked around and saw Hampton’s building, two buildings down. Hotel’s sign appeared on his face, and he exhaled the smoke with relief. At least he knows where he’s at. He strolled towards his room. I don’t feel like hitting the road anytime soon, he thought. He went into the lobby and extended his stay for another day. Then walked towards his room and collapsed on the bed. He stayed there till the following day.
He slept in late, and once he checked out, he knew he would have something to write about his adventures at home. It was always a good practice to let any new experiences and thoughts marinate in his mind for a little bit before they were ready to go out. He knew this was about a matter of time before he’ll get this shit on the paper in a novel form. The remaining ten or so hours went by quickly. He was excited to come back after a long time. This trip was indeed helpful. He realized a few things throughout. He’s changed. He couldn’t remain in the same place, doing the same things, and hoping for better results. The results were shit, and he felt like it quickly. And with time, it was the only thing he felt like. Someone had to give. Some things had to change.
Once in Philly, he was happy again. He realized that he missed his beloved fucked-up City, with all the homelessness, pollution, dirt, traffic, and shitty restaurants. I am home, baby. I am happy to be back. The new novel was written in record time after his return. Mark worked days, nights, and everywhere in between whenever he felt he needed to write something. It all worked out well. There was a press release from his publisher, and the world was excited about the new upcoming book from their local, famous writer-hero. He’s back. He was fucking back.
Life? What is life? What is there about it? Why is it always have to go the wrong way? Why, every so often, does life take you to some weird fucking places and knocks you down? Where the fuck am I going? And all of us? You, me, and everybody? It is bizarre to figure out your own life. You only learn this as you go along the way and stumble and fall, down deep into the shit of it all. It always has been this way. I always thought that when I grew up and reached my current age, I would know all the tricks and have all the answers. How naive of me was that? The longer I live, the more questions and doubts I have and the more confused and puzzled I become. It is not easy to make the right decision or any fucking decision because now, as an adult, there are no small decisions. Everything has consequences, and I have to take full responsibility. Not because I have to, I could surely fuck around, but because it is the right thing to do, and this is what grown men do. They take responsibility for all their actions and decisions and fight every day to ensure that they do all they can today to make their lives better tomorrow.
I am no longer the young and careless lad I once was. I am not an old fuck either. But these are the times right now when I establish myself as a real man, my character and my personality and my lifestyle, to help me get through this fucking crazy life. I know I’ve made many bad decisions, and many things could be different today. I am not even complaining about anything I’ve done. I love my life the way it is, and knowing how others struggle everywhere in the world, I feel so fucking fortunate. And honestly, even if I fucked up a few times here and there, I wouldn’t mind it too much because I wouldn’t be the person I am today. This is all about learning that shit as you go and keep moving forward. One should never stop moving forward unless you’re not breathing anymore. That’s the only allowed permanent stop. All other times, you have no excuses. Whether you want it or not, you have to get out there and fight every day and be who you are, become a better version of yourself, and find your true passion or your calling or whatever it is you are looking for.
I remember waiting when I was younger. I remember that there always has been a lot of waiting involved all the time. Waiting until I finish high school, finish college, or university, waiting for the job, waiting for the pay, waiting to reach a certain age, a particular moment, waiting for my opportunity. There is still a lot of waiting involved today, but it is called work in progress. I am kind of waiting for a better life, easy living, more fun, less pain, and less struggle, but also I am buried in my life with my daily chores and responsibilities. I know that just by waiting, I will not achieve shit. I have to do something about it. I have to work hard. I have to work smart. I have to keep my eyes open and not miss the opportunity coming my way, sideways, or wherever direction that bitch is coming from. I have to be ready. I have to be prepared for anything.
One never knows what life will put you through until it does. One never knows what tomorrow will bring. So, the game is to be ready for anything and be strong whatever comes your way. We are all here temporarily, people you know today, your friends, relatives, co-workers, and neighbors. One day you might wake up to a phone call about somebody’s death. Somebody you wouldn’t even question living for a long time might pass away. Are you ready for this? No. Nobody is. I don’t care who you are and how tough you are. Life will keep throwing punches and curve balls at you all the fucking time, and you have to be strong enough to manage all that shit. There are battles at war, and also, there are battles in peace. The winner might not take everything, but the winner better be you. Otherwise, there comes another defeat, misery, depression, wasted years of life, and so many wasted lives. People can be kind or seem kind at first. You always find out too late about all the pitfalls and shit that come from others. Sometimes it even feels like you have nobody to lean on, nobody to have your back. You are here, all alone, on your own, with all the bullshit to deal with. Modern society is strange these days, super sensitive and very easily manipulated. You could be too. You have to be mindful and aware and have your eyes and ears open all the time.
I often sit in total despair and wonder, how could shit get more brutal than this? And guess what? Next time around, sure as fuck, it becomes next-level insane. I am learning to become kind of immune to that. I never expect things and life to go easy and smooth. I know it never will be. But I also know that I have to be stronger to stand against it, whatever it is. Something does hurt you a lot. I mean, some things will damage you profoundly and permanently, and you might stay this way for a very long time. Even if you recover, you must never forget your past struggles. They will make you tougher. They will make you smarter. They will make you more resilient. “To be alive at all is to have scars” – an excellent quote from John Steinback. That is what I am talking about. This is another way of saying, “What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.” However, as cliche, as it might sound, it is true as anything.
We all grow up. We all get older with time. We age differently and interestingly, and that is the fact. We get fucking old. All of us. Even if you have that plastic surgery, everyone, including you, knows you’re fucking old. With age, there comes wisdom. Some get it more and some less. I am not judging. The more I get older, the more stupid I think I become but also, the more I learn and see that I know nothing. There is just so much shit to learn and discover, so many questions, and even more questions without answers. We try to answer them all, but often we fail. It is okay to fail. It is not okay to give up trying. Plastic surgery won’t give you all the answers, either. It won’t give you any wisdom except a good understanding that eventually, we fail to be young and beautiful and full of energy as we once were back in our innocent and glorious youth. The thing is to keep up the good fight, whatever it means to you. To be as good as you can be today and try for the same tomorrow. It is hard. Nobody said it would be easy. But, if you want to get and achieve something in this life, you have to do it.
Love is there also for us. Love does not always have big boobs or a nice, round big ass. Love is a feeling. Love is the air. Love is an ocean. Love is the motivation, and love should be in our lives to help us get through everything. Many people fail at love or love somebody they shouldn’t. You can’t always tell your heart what to do, but you can make the right decision. There is always the right person somewhere out there for all of us. I’ve been fortunate to have found my love. She is always near and dear to me, my heart, and my soul. There is no price tag or expiration date. There should not be one, to begin with. Things do happen, and it might seem like the love has evaporated. It might be gone, for that matter, but also, it could be the wrong love. The wrong choice you’ve made somewhere along the way, and as time went by, it became more apparent. It is sad but true. I don’t know how to find the right one. I guess time will tell. I think you have to make a move and use the proper judgment, and then you’ll see if you were right or not.
Life wouldn’t be interesting if it wouldn’t fuck with us from time to time. That’s life. I don’t think one can be fully ready for all shitstorms that could come your way. One doesn’t know what to expect the next minute, which makes it all very unpredictable and very mysterious, in a way. I guess this fight never stops. It’s always on as long as you live, as long as you breathe, and if you want to take another breath, you should fight for it. So, it just makes perfect sense to sit back and enjoy life and every little moment. One day it is rough; another is a blast. So, what the fuck?
I do want to go back. I want to return to my emotional and spiritual home, the warm beach in South West Florida. I thought about it recently. I reminisced about the good old days and the time when my mind and soul were in total peace and harmony. There was no anxiety, depression, stress, or any fucking worry whatsoever. There is something in that sunshine that makes you feel more alive. The minute you get out of the car or a plane and look around and look up, you feel free and happy. There is no better way to get all the fucking vitamin D you can get out there. That is a secret ingredient to happiness. It does make me happy. It does make me genuinely happy like nothing else in the world. That climate is just perfect. It’s warm and consistent, and there are no significant ups and downs and fucking sideways with temperatures or anything else. Yes, it rains and storms like fucking hell at certain times, but most of the time, it’s fucking perfect. It is 85 on average every day. It could be plus or minus two, three, or four degrees. Who gives a shit? It’s still great. It makes one want to live and love this life.
The ocean. The ocean is magnificent by its nature, and it heals. It heals all the wounds that we get from the day-to-day bullshit. You know what heaven feels like when you sit on the beach watching waves, lying in the sand, or swimming in the warm ocean water. I loved to wake up early and drive to the beach for my morning runs. I ran barefoot slowly, listening to some music while still hearing the ocean and the birds. I ran with the early morning sun in my face, the beach to my side, and my bare feet feeling the wet sand on the shore like nothing else. It felt so liberating. It felt like freedom. It was not physical exercise for me. It was a joy and pure mental and spiritual joy. When my day started like that every morning, there was nothing that could upset me anymore or have any fucking negative impact on me whatsoever. I just didn’t give a fuck. I was in heaven. I knew I had it better than most. I was devouring every second of my time there on the beach every time, and I started to appreciate little moments like that more. I began to see life from a new perspective. I knew that there was a reason why I was alive and why I should love this life. I knew that I was so fucking fortunate to be there. I was so grateful for my life, what I have, and the people around me.
Sunsets. Oh, these magnificent sunsets can cure cancer, and they are perfect each time you see one. I cannot tell you how happy I have been to witness all the sunsets I did, how many thoughts ran through my mind, how much joy I had, and how much more alive I felt. There is something about sunsets that always intrigues me and makes me want to watch them more and more and more, and there are never enough sunsets. On the one hand, I could witness how the perfect day ended, how every day ended. How yet another day of my life ended but wasn’t wasted. That is the key to watching sunsets. You see them, and you realize that they will happen with or without you, and the day will become the night, the night will become a day, and life will move on, and so should we. There is the right time to start and the right time to finish. There is this time in the day to let go of all the shit that happened before and get ready for a new beginning.
On the other hand, it makes you think and wonder how insignificant we are and how much natural beauty there is in this world, and it is there for you every fucking evening for free. It is a shame that so many people take these great events for granted and ignore them or miss them even when they really can, take twenty minutes off their evening and see that magnificent and perfect scenery. I always took my time to be there, watch yet another sunset, say goodbye to the past, and welcome new and better life.
There is enough suffering and bullshit in life, but there are also many really great things here. If you focus on the wrong things, that’s what you’ll be getting, a shitty fucking, miserable life. If you choose to seek out great things, you will be happy. Truly happy as people can be. You are what you think you are. Choose to be somebody better than that person you were yesterday and see how things will start to change. There might not be a perfect life in your daily existence. There might not be an ideal woman next to you. There might not be a beach where you live, but it doesn’t mean these things do not exist and that, if you want and seek them out, you’ll be in a better place with everything you need that makes you happy. And honestly, there isn’t much the man needs to be truly happy. It is always the little things.
Listening to the grand old jazz at the beach on The lovely sunny afternoon is better than anything. Watching the sun up in the sky go down Behind the horizon is the magic of nature. It will happen with or without jazz music It will happen with or without anybody watching. Ocean waves speak volumes, And the sea birds run around trying to find something They can eat in the sand. The sand is pure white, the purest cleanest white powder all around The comfort and the pleasure for both sea birds and my people walking around. There is the sky, the birds, the ocean, the waves, the wind, the fish in the water, And the women in bikinis. What else is there that you need? The sun will rise, and the sun will dawn And the day will change the night Life has its direction, and it follows that. Jazz music is a pleasure for my ears Beer is a pleasure for my soul, A cigarette is a pleasure for my mind, And the beach is where I want to be forever. The trumpet is whistling; the drums are drumming, The ocean moves with all its power. The sun shines brightly like there is no tomorrow. There is no reason to be hopeless after all. There is hope, and there is life, and there will be another day, Life goes on; the jazz will live forever, and the ocean, and the beach, And the sand, and the birds, and the sun, It’s only us that have an expiration date, Sooner or later, we’ll all be gone, Leaving this magic for somebody else.
It is hard to be angry when you are in a gorgeous place with great company. Everything seems to make sense, and things don’t seem too bad either. Somehow you get a feeling that, shit, this life isn’t too bad at all. They say you can’t run away from your problems, and the new location is not a solution. I could partially disagree with that statement for sure. I ran away from my “normal” day-to-day life, and now I am here, in North West Florida, enjoying the sunshine, the beach, and the perfect climate. My problems did not go away, but the way I think about them changed. They don’t stress me out anymore. They are not as important as I thought they were. They all will get some fucking solution at some point, and I will forget about them as soon as possible. A new setting makes you feel different, and the better your surroundings are, the more appealing it is for you and the better your entire experience becomes. Presently, I am in the best place on Earth, and I love it. It doesn’t mean that nothing else matters, but instead that I have so much pleasure in my life right now that all that stressful bullshit has no place in my heart anymore. Life goes on. Life is beautiful, and we always have to remember that no matter how fucked up it might get.
It is a beautiful sunny morning in Sarasota, Florida. At seven-thirty in the morning, the sun goes up, and you can feel its nice and warm presence. I woke up early even though I was on my brief vacation. I wanted to see and experience more of this place and its beauty. I want to be full of this new life experience that will not last forever, but I want to make sure its impact will. I go into my car around seven in the morning and drive off to the beach. Siesta Key beach is about seventeen minutes away from Palmer Ranch, where I rent. The traffic is very light in the morning, and driving through Midnight Pass Road feels liberating when just a few cars are driving on it. As I drive closer to the beach, I see people walking or running. I see people on bicycles and walking their dogs.
You can easily spot somebody who’s a professional runner. These experienced runners are always very much tanned, and they always wear a running uniform, black sunglasses, and sweat dripping all over them. They run consistently, with a very measured tempo and pace. They have earbuds in their ears and a phone strapped to one of their arms, and they breathe deeply and systematically. You cannot miss the professional runners out here. I am not an experienced runner myself, but I do that for fun and to trigger some new experiences in my life and train my body. It is also a great mental escape from everything. Whatever the situation is, I feel satisfied and happy, and that’s all I need.
There are very few cars in the beach parking lot, and you can easily park in the first raw parking space in the morning. People who park there usually are either early risers who want to enjoy the beach in peace or runners like myself who want to be healthier and fit and satisfy their physical needs by running a few miles in the morning by the ocean. I park my car, get my earbuds in and play some upbeat rock music. It has to be something energetic, something to give me a boost since I am still half asleep in my mind. I stretch my legs right there next to my car. I am always barefoot when I run on the beach. I love to feel the white, powder-like sand under my feet. It is the best feeling ever. It brings me closer to this environment and makes me feel more present. Also, I hate to get sand into my sneakers, which ruins them. And since I don’t like to go out and buy a new pair of sneakers often, in general, I am annoyed by shopping, I run barefoot, and I am happy like that.
Walking to the beach, I can see the light-blue sky on the horizon, with a slight pink reflection from the rising sun. The pale-white, super smooth sand is cold under my bare feet. This type of sand is always cold, but it feels even colder in the mornings. I don’t mind the sand. My mind is set on the sky and the contrast between white sand, light blue sky, and light-blue and green-ish ocean. There are no words to describe this beauty. This picture-perfect scenery takes away my mind and soul. I take some pictures on my phone, I want to always have this memory somewhere in my digital cloud, so I can always go back to it, share it with others, show them how great this place is, and make them a little jealous. I walk the morning-cold sand towards the ocean.
I see some people scattered around the beach this early in the morning. Everyone has a reason to be there. Some are getting ready for another beautiful sunny day, and they decided to set up their beach spot early. Some people are just walking at the shoreline, breathing the fresh ocean air, some are running, and some are on their bicycles. There are fishermen, cigar-smoking men, coffee drinkers, old, young, kids, and others. I don’t start running until I am on the shoreline, next to the water. I deeply inhale the fresh morning ocean air. It looks pretty light and easy on my lungs. I almost don’t feel any pressure inside. I feel easy and relaxed. I want to live. Once I reach the water, I start running.
There is something about running on the beach that is an entirely different kind of running and completely different physical training than, let’s say, running at the gym, or on the street, or running in nasty-cold Pennsylvania neighborhoods. I hardly feel tired from running, and I get to breathe the freshest, smoothest air. The green-blue water comes and goes and comes again, hitting the shore lightly and returning to where it came from. There is a light, easy breeze in the air, and it makes me breathe in fully. My music plays in my earbuds, but I can still hear the ocean, the wind, and the birds. It all adds up to this magical yet so natural scenery. I watch my way, and I run left and right, trying to bypass others on the beach. People constantly walk back and forth. There are always people on the beach, no matter the day and the weather. Some walk in small groups, some walk with strollers, and some are alone but not lonely out here. This is like an early-morning-beach club or something where everyone who decided to come out this time of the day belongs here and is happy to be part of this early-riser community. So am I, and I am not local, but I feel like I am. I feel like I belong here.
My run continues, and I watch people, I try not to look at their faces, but sometimes I do. I want to see who else is out here this morning. I want to see beautiful young girls running on the beach. I usually see very few or none of those. They all seem to be getting their beauty sleep. Elderly and middle-aged folks are the majority of walkers and runners. This whole town is predominantly elderly folks. Those folks made it in this life. Those folks have nothing else to do but enjoy their lives and this beautiful weather that holds most of the year. I don’t mind the elderly. I don’t mind anybody at all. I feel light jealousy towards them since they’ve accomplished something in this life and deserve to enjoy their retirement. I am still very early on this life journey. I still have to go through at least thirty-some more years of working until I can peacefully retire. But I love to get a chance and an early experience of what this life can be like. I want to get an early glimpse of what this life can feel like once there is nothing to worry about but go out for a walk or a run on the beach in the mornings or evenings. This place is the place. This town is the town. I love everything about it. I’ll take it with all the idiots, tourists, lizards, alligators, and turtles over anything in North-Eastern Pennsylvania. Sarasota is the only place where I genuinely feel like I belong here. I should be here. I am happy here at once. Nothing else matters here anymore as long as I have this sun, this warm ocean air, this beach, this white sand under my feet and all. Man needs so little to be truly happy. Somehow, we all take the long road towards our happiness and towards finding what it is that we want to live for.
The music in my ears plays loud, the ocean’s hum is still audible, and I run. I get this immense energy from the ocean. My run feels easy and relaxed. I almost feel no pressure running, and there is no struggle at all. I watched the ocean move back and forth. I ran into the water for a little while to get my bare feet wet, to feel this energy. It works. Getting my bare feet wet refreshes my body and mind, and I want to run faster. I want to run longer. I prefer this run never to end. I continue to move along the shoreline.
Under my feet, on my way, I see the white sand with all those footprints on it. I see all those muscles and the seaweed flushed over onto the shore. I watch the sky and the sun rising on my left as I run towards it, and I feel the wind brushing through my body and soul. To my left are all those buildings along the shoreline, hotels, rentals, private housing, and everything under the sun that keep people coming here and staying there. Some customers are so eager to get there early that they come down as early as seven in the morning. Most of them probably are here for the first time. Many visitors are here on their vacations, spending some time with family and children or even by themselves. I see young mothers carrying their children to the beach in the morning. I see the fathers following them with a little cart with everything they might need at the beach while here. Some people are lightly packed with just one bag and a thermos. There is always a thermos with some mysterious liquid that people would bring with them to the beach. I’m sure there are plenty with alcohol in it. Locals know they can drink freely here, and they don’t even try to hide it. The tourists will be shyer about it and still hide their beer and wine in those thermoses or plastic bottles. It all works. It’s funny how people behave at the beach.
People come here with their reasons and schedules. They sit lazily on those chairs or lay on their towels, watching, doing nothing but relaxing. They are finding their peace and calm here at the beach. Most visitors don’t and will not get up early to run. They love just to lay there and watch others do their thing. It’s very much entertaining that way. I don’t mind them at all. I love to watch them as well while I am running. I love observing other people all the time. I love seeing what they do, how they look like, who they are watching, what they are doing in general, and how they are spending their morning time. A great song came up, and I turned my volume louder on my phone. I have my car key in my back pocket zipped, and I hold my phone in my hand as I run. I control my music, my sound, and my channels. I want to hear only what I want to hear at the moment. I don’t want to suffer through another lazy, dull song. I want all the best tunes playing in my ears this morning. I want to have this music associated with this ocean, beach, palms, sun, tourists watching me running by them, and all those birds making so much noise. I run until the shoreline ends, or almost until it ends, and there is no way to go any further, then I turn around and run back.
My view is slightly different now on my way back, as I can see more of the water on my left and the shore which bends this way. I always want to capture these moments somewhere in my memory to bring them back to life when I’ve been out of here. I might seem like a local to most of these folks on the beach, but I am just like one of them. I am just another tourist here. It doesn’t matter. What matters most is how I feel, at my all-time best. This sunshine does something to me, I am sure of it. I feel like all my anxiety and depression, stress, and all that daily bullshit do not affect me anymore. I don’t even give a shit about my emails or work-related matters or anything. I just live. I just run. I am free as those birds in the sky. I am just enjoying every minute here in the lovely Sarasota. There is sure a reason why I’ve been coming back here year after year for over a decade.
Fifteen minutes into my adventure, I can feel the sweat coming onto my face. I wipe with my hand and continue to run. The light ocean breeze blows through me and makes it all feel alright. I feel fresh. I feel so alive. I can see the yellow beach guard’s booth, my starting point, and my finish line. With every minute, I get closer and closer to it. I don’t have a time or a distance goal for this run. I am doing it for fun. I am doing it from this point to that and back. That’s it. It’s simple. It’s almost too simple to call it an exercise. I enjoy it like I am enjoying my cold white wine with a nice dinner later in the day. I am already planning my next run tomorrow and the next day, and for the remaining of the week. I wish I could spend my entire life like that. I wish I could come to the beach every morning until my last day, run or walk, enjoy this beauty, breathe this air, and feel this sand under my bare feet. I am only here for a month. At least I can count on that. At least it is something. Something worth living for.
I slow down and get closer to the beach as I approach the finish line. My feet are warm and hot from running the fresh, not even cold, and ocean water refreshes me again. I stop, and I walk more into the water to get deeper, down to my knee level. I watch the blue-greenish water moving, the ocean breathing, the birds flying around making noise, and the boats far into the water doing something out there. It’s a perfect view. It’s the view that I want to enjoy all my life. This view takes away my breath and my mind. I stay there knee-deep in the water and watch it all. The horizon is clear, and I can see far, but I can’t see the end of the ocean. This ocean has no end. It doesn’t need to end anywhere. I stay there like that, motionless and thoughtful. I feel like I have to think about something important like the sense of life and the purpose and my goals and my career and family life, but nothing like that comes to my mind. I just want to be present and not distracted from this beauty by nothing else. My mind is blank, already up from my night’s sleep but still wondering, still processing in the quiet mode. I check my watch, It’s about eight-thirty. I look sideways. I look straight ahead into the ocean. There are more people now on the beach with every minute. I know I have to get back to my place. I know my child will wake up about any minute now, and I want to see my son’s beautiful sleepy face, hug him, kiss him, and start his breakfast for him. I turn around, and I walk back across the massive wide valley of sand towards the parking lot, towards my car. I am not looking back. I am just walking away. I know what’s behind me. I don’t need another sad reminder that I am leaving this place and might not ever come back. I know I will come back here at some point in time. I will be here again tomorrow morning, running again, enjoying it all. For now, I need to be with my family. I want to see them, hug them, kiss them, and have my morning coffee with them. They are all I have and all I love in this world. I am so fortunate that we are here together, living and enjoying this fantastic place, and we are happy here, like nowhere else. Life can be beautiful if you let it.
Yesterday I quit the job that I worked at for the last three and half years. This has been the longest time I worked for any company in my life this far. Every time I left a job in the past, I was reminiscing; I felt sad and nostalgic. Not now, though. Strangely enough, leaving this hellhole was not triggering any sensitivity in my heart and soul. It ate so much out of my life that I cannot even fathom it.
The last two years have been shit for most people. Too much nonsense went on, too much stress, anxiety, bullshit, and the discovery that there could be a new normal, even more, fucked up than the old one. The last two years have been both exciting in my personal life and fucking traumatic workwise. My son was born two years ago; I got a promotion at work; I was finally able to pay off all my debt, save some money, buy a house, we moved to a better place, we’ve traveled, I’ve self-published my first book, a collection of poems, we’ve discovered new things for us as a family. It all began as a mystery in the workplace, turning into something productive for a short period, and then the shit hit the fan, and all the fucking craziness broke loose.
We were all in the lockdown stage of life, and the pandemic was in full swing. All of a sudden, everyone, and I mean everyone, freaked the fuck out. All companies, organizations, grocery stores, factories, banks, you fucking name it, they all went fucking insane. A lot of people learned that their jobs were not essential, and they were fired or furloughed. The government was kind enough to send them “Covid-checks,” which kept most of the people officially out of the workplace for almost two fucking years now. It was scary to go to the grocery store, the fucking shortages began, people were afraid to walk by one another, people were even more strangers than ever.
My workdays became gradually longer and longer, and since we were all locked up in our houses, it was easy to reach us and give us some more work. There were priorities on top of fucking priorities never fucking ended. They always wanted more and more and fucking more! Greedy corporate fucks! Fuck them! Eventually, there was so much work to do that I would still be behind on everything even if I skipped my sleep and meals. Everything just got utterly unmanageable.
I don’t know how and why I took all this shit on myself but apparently, so did everyone who decided to stay employed. On the one hand, this persistence gave me a great opportunity down the line to save more money, remain independent, buy a house, and keep out of debt. On the other hand, I’ve got a fucking significant brain damage from work overload, burnout, fatigue, and quite a few nervous breakdowns. I literally, mentally, and spiritually lost my shit. Regardless of how much work I’ve done, there was always something else, something more, and then more on top of that. Somehow I made it all work.
I tried to keep my sanity intact, I was keeping well with my writing, I was trying to stay fit and exercised a lot, I meditated a lot. More stories and poems reflective of what the fuck was going on in the world and my life than. My mind went into some strange places for a while but luckily came back. I was finally able to finish editing and re-writing some of the poems for my self-published book. The whole process took me almost six months to complete, but I did it. I found a designer who created a cool fucking book cover; I wrote all the bios and intros and re-organized all that shit, and it was an excellent experience for me altogether.
We went to Florida for a week once in late September of 2020 with friends. It was a great time. I was able to relax, forget about the stupid job, relax and stop the fucking time from running. It is fascinating how fast the time was going here in PA, and then out there in FL, everything slowed down. It was just chill. There was no rush, no urgency, nothing particular to do, and no fucking due dates, no deliverables. I just relaxed and got my life back for a week. After we returned, the crazy shitshow continued as usual.
In early 2021 I started to think seriously about a new job. I started to apply online a lot but with no success. I knew my resume was shit, and I needed a better, professionally written resume to breakthrough. The whole resume process went on forever. I started the process with the agency in late February, and it was only ready by early May. Two fucking months of a drag. As I said, everyone was fucked up. In March, I got a severe nervous breakdown while working on a “critical update,” and my fucking phone wasn’t connecting right, and then my computer took a shit, and I threw both of them against the fucking wall. Needed to get new equipment within the same day to get online and finish all that work shit.
Then was an announcement that we would start returning to the office beginning in mid-May. First, it was just voluntary; if you want to come, please come and check it out, see what’s new, see what’s changed. Then it was a mandatory visit or a few visits before early July when the hybrid schedule officially would kick off. I knew that the “freedom” of working from home would end very soon, and I needed to take advantage of that. I needed a vacation, and since last year’s break was very brief, we decided to take a more extended vacation time. Since I started looking for a new job, I decided to use most of my vacation days and mix them with remote work to cover the whole month.
We thought about a two-week straight vacation. But then why in the fuck would we want to cut ourselves short? We found a rent for a whole month of May, at the nice place, in the lovely neighborhood, and it all worked out just fucking great. We went to the beautiful Palmer Ranch in Sarasota, Florida. It was a fucking blast. That sunshine, the ocean, the sand, the palms, fucking alligators, all of it completely changed my life, how I felt, how I thought about life, all the anxiety and bullshit and depression went the fuck away. I felt like a normal human being at last for such a long time. Finally! Finally, I knew that there could be a decent life, a great life is possible, living in Florida is fucking awesome, and the climate is fantastic. I also proved to myself that moving to FL is definitely doable, and we as a family will at some point move out here. Things have changed in our lives as the year went by, and our priorities and responsibilities changed. So we decided to stay in PA and bought a house here in the suburbs. But my heart is other there in Florida. I couldn’t get enough of sitting on the sand, drinking beer, smoking a cigarette, watching the best fucking sunsets ever, and really enjoying my life.
I’ve been very reminiscent about FL recently. Somehow, something just triggered good memories, and I was all consumed by it. The weather on the East Coast is getting colder, too, and that also doesn’t help not thinking about the good warm days. If one had the perfect living place, Sarasota would be mine and the only ideal place to live. I remember evenings spent on the beach with my family, watching the most amazing sunsets while drinking my beer and genuinely enjoying every moment.
There is nothing more simple and more beautiful in the world than a beach. The blue ocean water was calming my worried mind and soul. The sand was so white and pure and soft; you wanted to be there to experience it all and never leave. The days were perfectly hot, with 88 average temperatures, and the sun gently burned out all the anxiety, stress, and bullshit that occupied my brain. The whole experience was very much therapeutic.
The future is unknown, and many things can and will happen down the road. I know that I cannot control most of it, but I can set my mind on something and achieve it. And I will. I fucking will, sooner or later. For now, though, we’ve just got a great house, our first house as a family, it needs us, and it needs our attention, so we’ll be here. We’ll take care of it. We’ll do our best to have a great time here. We’ll be ready to move to Florida in no time. Sarasota, we miss you, and we will be back soon. The new chapter of our life is about to begin.
It was night and dark outside. She and I were on the beach in Miami. I had a glass of red wine in my hand, and she had a cup of hot black tea. We were not married then, but we both knew our love was real and deep, and it will last for as long as it could.
The beach was almost empty, and the ocean was dark with just some sparks here and there, reflecting the city lights on the water and the moon and the stars in the deep, dark, faraway sky. We were silent, sitting close to each other as one. We did not need to talk at all; we understood everything at that moment. It was love. It was us. It was our future together, which we didn’t know yet. But we hoped it would be good for both of us. It will have us together.
I was inspired at the moment, and I knew it is one of a kind. I never had any moments like that before. I knew gods gave me a chance to think and to dream and to see what I wanted in this life. I never had time to focus on thinking about life and the future, and I wanted to do with my life. She was there near me, and that was enough. I was there for her, and I was enough.
I sipped on my glass, looking at the dark ocean. There was a star in the sky, and I saw one falling down for the first time. I knew this is a proper time to make a wish, and I did. I wished to be successful and rich and famous. It was a bullshit wish, but I felt like it was a necessary thing to do. I didn’t care about being rich or famous or successful because I never was one, and I didn’t even know what it all meant. It was just an opportunity to do whatever I wanted and never worry about money, prosperity, impressing anybody, and career, jobs, or anything at all. Life was young and simple then. Worry less.
I wanted to live my life the best I could. How I liked it to be. My understanding of life and its purpose was limited. A young man’s heart is always on fire, and his soul is full of adventure. It wasn’t about being correct or intelligent all the time or only making the right decisions. Wise decision-making usually takes much more time and comes with some life experience. I didn’t have that back then. I had my heart and soul full of adventures and my love next to me, and her dreams and passions. We were in love, and we were in our moment, creating our moment together. We were us.
It is interesting how life plays games with you and what one has to go through until we find ourselves, all the struggles and broken hearts, arguments, fights, and misunderstandings. Everything else that goes along and eats a person alive. Being with the wrong person for some time and then understanding that you’ll never get your time back and never getting your youth back feels sad. But, the sadness filled with understanding and life experiences that make adults out of young people teach them lessons that nobody else can teach. I’ve just had a bad relationship experience behind me, and now I was with my future and the love of my life, sitting on the dark beach at night, drinking my red wine, feeling in love, and enjoying every second of that moment, every breath of that fresh ocean air.
I felt some sort of comfort, and I think she did as well, the comfort of having the right person next to you and the comfort of being in love with one another. I wanted to keep her with me forever. I wanted her to be the love of my life. I knew early that she was the one, and I needed to hold her close to me. When you get those kinds of feelings, you are often right, and you have the right person next to you. I didn’t know when that it will take us six more years before we will get married and three more years before she will give birth to our son. We stuck together through thick and thin, and we are still together, and I hope we always will.
“To a better future together, babe. I love you more than I ever loved anyone else, and I always want to be with you!” I raised my glass to a toast. “I love you too, honey,” she said, “to us!”
We were poor and young and happy. There was very little to worry about because life was so simple then. We were trying to enjoy our lives as much as possible. We were new to adulthood and responsible life then. We were yet to find out all its tricks and challenges. I remember all those turning points that affected me as a person. There wasn’t much of anything to take from 2017 except for this vacation. This was the best thing that happened to me in a long time right before all the shit hit the fan. These were truly the best and worry-less days of our lives, and they still bring pleasure when I think about them now.
It was a hot July of 2017. The vacation season was here. My wife and I, married for about a year then, decided that we need to take a break from everything and go on vacation. I worked for a finance company in Southern Jersey, and she was working for an accounting firm in suburban Pennsylvania. The company I worked for was going through some transformations and leadership changes as my job were becoming less and less relevant and soon to end for me. My wife’s job was an hourly contract position with no benefits, a few hours a day commuting, and the same boring accounts payables every fucking day.
I was on the market, secretly looking for something new. I’ve lost any interest in working in the office at all. But, I had to do it, I had to pay the bills and credit cards and the school loans and anything else that I owed to anybody. This is the game which we all have to play. As long as you play it right, you should be okay. I didn’t have any particular interest career-wise as I started thinking about becoming a writer. I was already playing it wrong. But becoming a writer doesn’t mean that I would pay my bills right away with my writing. Maybe I could? If I could only dedicate myself to the craft more. I surely could. We were both fed up with our jobs, and the daily routine, and taking a vacation was a no-brainer.
We booked a hotel in Center City Sarasota, Florida, for five days over the July 4th holiday. Things were about to change for both of us right after this trip. But before that, we lived pretty happy and boring lives and didn’t have many expectations. The trip to Florida in a car was roughly about eighteen hours, with just some brief food and restroom stops. Since we both lived paycheck-to-paycheck, driving was the best option for us. The hotel was booked for July 4th. We’ve decided to leave Philadelphia on the evening of July 3rd to get there in the afternoon on the 4th. We were going to celebrate Independence Day in the beautiful Sarasota, getting baked under the bright Florida sun. Our hotel was located right there in Center City, close to all restaurants and the best beaches with the whitest sand and the most gorgeous sunsets ever.
“Okay, my bag is ready. Taking that to the car. Are you ready with your stuff, babe?” I asked, feeling the internal rush inside me as we were packing our bags and stocking them into a car.
We finally arrived in Key West Florida around eight o’clock on a hot Tuesday evening in mid-June. The trip from Philadelphia was annoying and too damn long, but sure worth it. It took us a car ride, two shuttles, two airplanes, a rental, and a total of eighteen hours to get there. I am an inspired young writer trying to make it in a corporate world and my six-month happily pregnant wife, we’ve left for a little get-away right before the pregnancy, and traveling becomes too much of a burden for both of us.
We’ve decided on Florida because it was a relatively affordable trip with an excellent travel package for a week and, of course, because of Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway resided in Key West from 1931 to 1939. His house is a historic landmark and a museum, and it’s the primary destination for so many people coming down here, to the edge of the world, the far end of the Florida Keys. We stayed at Havana Cabana, a cool Cuban style hotel-resort located just about ten miles away from Hemingway’s house. We stayed there for the next five days, and this would be our last trip with only two of us before the baby arrives.
