Three Summers in Denton

10 Feb

 

 

I.

Summers in Denton were simple

I’d returned to cement, mend, and let go

of certain relationships.

each day was painstakingly slow

as the Texas heat beat the ambition out of me.

 

Mornings were spent listening to records

checked out from the school library

and trying not to seduce my female housemates ( I barely succeeded).

I spent a lot of time in bed, thinking

and believing I’d made the right decision despite

leaving behind two good jobs and

a rotating bevy of beauties–both young and old.

Though things were on the surface good in Austin,

everything felt slightly off.

 

Moving back to North side of I-35 created new challenges

but it always felt right,

even when things weren’t quite good.

To escape the heat I only moved at night

waking up from naps to the sounds of

70’s soft rock, Bossanova and cool jazz.

I rarely left the house before 6PM,

and at night I stocked grocery store shelves–

arguing with my direct supervisor about my box nightly box count.

I kept a deliberate pace, slow to take things in

and quick to tune things out.

My new life gave me the space to think

and to not think.

I ignored the burgeoning numbness that had yet to peak

but would not thaw completely until nearly 2 winters later.

 

II.

June was a rainy month–one of the rainiest summers of memory.

Lunch breaks were spent at my apartment

lying in bed together, before returning to campus

under the same umbrella–both soaking wet.

It was my first time to ever live alone

First time traveling alone to visit ballparks in other states.

In many ways things were perfect.

Yet still I felt an uneasiness creeping,

I wanted freedom.

But I was afraid to completely embrace it.

I managed to miss out on both realities by sitting on the fence.

Staring down an imminent transition

whether I was ready for it or not.

 

III.

I hit my stride in ’05

spent more loan money on travel than I did books

and the new mattress gifted to me by a friend

came with plenty of good JuJu.

No more road games.

Two (possibly even three) could sleep there comfortably

and I could still get away with giving in to my base desires

(no matter how unattractive the young lady was in the daylight).

 

It was the happiest I’d been in a long time

but I could sense I was ready for something different 

Two years alone had taught me enough.

The road ahead would prove to be a bumpy one,

but it was necessary.

I learned to love to be alone.

Now it was time to learn how to be with others.

The fun (and the weirdness) was just beginning.

 

~Edward Austin Robertson

 

 

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