Our last fight was incongruously serene. Of course, we were dining in an upscale restaurant, so neither of us so much as raised our voices. The immensity of our marital catastrophe kept us polite despite our mutual aches of emptiness and pain, our laundry lists of wrongs and resentments. Why bother? was the mantra.
“You know your marriage failed when the only thing you agree on is your relief you didn’t have kids,” I said as we parted.
As I got on my motorcycle that night, I had the idea.
What do I remember of my journey this past year?
Standing on the deck of the freighter as we passed through the Panama Canal.
The Agentinian customs agent who didn’t believe I wasn’t planning on selling my motorcycle.
The Bengali truck driver on the Silk Road who gave me a lift when I broke down.
This road right here, right now.
This is sad, understated, filled with loss. And yet he clearly has a freedom he never experienced before, travelling the world alone. Feels very real, very human. Terrific as always, Josh
Thanks, Lynn. I just realized this story is posting on my anniversary! That’s irony for you ;-)
Ha! Hope there’s no offence taken, then . Hope you guys had a lovely anniversary
Politeness can be used as a dagger, or maybe just as a way of finishing off a relationship, like a wrapped gift, with a tidy bow. He sounds ready to have blood pump trough his veins again after such a chilly parting.
Thanks!
Brilliant, Josh! Such an authentic-feeling description of the last fight in the restaurant. And the abrupt change of direction that follows conveys perfectly the dislocation in his life caused by the separation. Kudos!
Thanks!
Here’s to a change from the weight of the restaurant’s refined but suffocating atmosphere, and into the open road. Palpable. Very well done, Josh!
Nothing quite like the open road, the wind through your hair, the bugs in your eyes and teeth. Great writing this week.
Thanks!
I love the title! It says so much, then your words wrap up the story. Nicely rendered.
Thanks!
We live life moving forward but often grokked only in retrospect. Good story, Josh.