What do you do when you meet someone you love more than life itself and are forced to let them go so they can experience life without attachment?
Two chance encounters set this story in motion and send Nick's introverted soul down a long avoided mem...
"The world is spinning too fast I'm buying lead Nike shoes To keep myself tethered To the days I've tried to lose My mama said to slow down You must make your own shoes Stop dancing to the music Of Gorillaz in a happy mood Keeping my groove on."
19-2000 Gorillaz
I was just the other night reminded of this story. I had forgotten about it entirely, well, nearly. Of course, I remembered getting my sweet dog, Cato, but the events leading up to the unexpected presence in my life had been squirreled away back into the dark recesses of my mind. It was probably for good reason because it was an awkward, terrible day. Just the kind of day I would try and forget. Of course, the result was getting a Chow puppy that would be my buddy, my hiking and cruising companion for years to come.
Sofia had a lot of firsts with me mainly because she was so introverted. I was still introverted to the near-fusion reaction level, and she was still worse. It's not that Sof led a sheltered life before me either. She just grew up doing her thing and living her life. She had studied ballet for years and kept at it. That was her thing. By the time I met her, she had checked all her boxes. She had graduated college, got a position with the Atlanta Ballet, had just moved out on her own, and bought a car. She had accomplished a lot but had not done a lot. If that makes any sense?
We did a lot together. Though introverted, I am a basket of nervous energy and can't stand to just sit around. I brought home concert tickets all the time. We went to every museum in the city and then some. We hiked and camped, took long walks, and explored and tried nearly every divey restaurant we could find. All good stuff, all good memories.
This goes back some years. Y2K was all the worry. It was also when I met and purchased my first temperamentally hot Italian lady, a Ducati Monster. She was red, silver, and curvy in all the right places and fast. Boy, was she fast. She purred like a sinewy jungle cat. I was smitten. Sofia was not.
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A Friday evening soon after that, Sof wanted to go out and eat. She was getting to know the city around us a little better. Though she had lived around the area for several years, she was only then becoming comfortable venturing out. Her blinders had come off in a big way. When I arrived home, she was sitting in our den listening to my CDs with the lights turned low. I was hoping she wanted to stay in, but she had fixed up, and before she said a word, I knew we were eating out. What she said next hit me in the back of the head as I leaned in and picked her up from the couch for my hug.
"I want to go to some of the places you and your friends used to go."
