Groundhogs

Chapter 1: Like Groundhogs

There was a time when I took many walks. I never went far, just around the corner or just about a street or two away from my house. My excuses for those walks weren't for any sort of betterment. I walked around the corner to the 7–11 to buy beer or cigarettes. I walked a street or two away to drink a beer or smoke a cigarette or two.

Those walks were simple, and I think I started to drink more and smoke more to walk more. On the path around the corner and two streets away, I was accompanied by trees older than me. Every day, they swayed with my drunken gait and their leaves covered my face. It was simple. The trees remained and my walk never changed. In that consistency, I found some sort of solace that they talk about like a reward after a life of nothing. When I think about my walks, and those trees, and that momentary solace, I feel spoiled. Because I'm not sure what I did to deserve peace of mind when my life of nothing has just began.

Or maybe this life of nothing is just ending, and I've found my solace at the right time. These walks are the end. And there isn't much time left. Then I begin to think, "But why are these moments so fleeting? If this is my peace of mind at the end, why do I only get a little at a time?"

But I think of how selfish I could really be.

Sometime early winter, midway through December, I decided to take a walk around the corner. I had just spoken to my parents, who've grown noticeably more bitter with my presence around the house as they enter their fifties. Before leaving the house, I wiped away a tear that escaped my rage-filled eyes after my father told me, "You're a bum." Behind the closed door of my room, I shoved my wallet with a spare twenty-dollar bill into my back pocket and tucked a cigarette from the pack hidden in my drawer into the lining of my beanie. I walked out of the front door after hearing them fall asleep.

Typically, I walked the path around the corner in the middle night. After bad news, after good news, for celebrations, for my dog's funeral I walked to the store around the corner. But I made sure I walked at night when no one was around. I had free reign to that peace I was afforded so early on in my life. But that day, sunset was approaching, and I made an exception. I hadn't noticed but some of the older trees on my path were stumps. Their large arms that draped over me before were absent, and the sun angrily shined light on the top of my freshly shaved head. I stopped in front of one of the stumps and grazed my finger across the age lines. I felt as if I was looking into their lives; I slid my fingers across their accumulated memories of themselves and those who hid beneath them like I found myself accustomed to.

Then, I gave up on sitting and thinking of myself and everyone else who left precious things at the feet of a tree that's no longer here. I continued back down my tree lined path, then stopped short of the turn around the corner. The last tree at the turn, the last tree that comforted me and told me each time that it was okay I took this walk and dealt with things this way, was a stump too. On the stump, a woman about my age sat atop of my closest friend.

"That wasn't always a stump, you know?" I said.

The woman turned towards me, inhaled a cigarette deeply, squinted her eyes with each passing second, and exhaled the weight of the world.

"I would hope so," she said with the last few breaths that remained.
"Do you want a cigarette?" she asked.
"Not really. I'm strictly electronic these days."
"Lame."
"I know. I do miss cigarettes sometimes though."
"Okay," she said as she got up and started walking down the turn of my path.
"Are you going this way too?"
"Yeah, that was actually my last one."
"Why did you offer me one then?"
"Isn't that the nice thing to do? I would've given you one eventually. I'm going to the 7–11."
"Fair enough."
"What're you getting? I'll buy since I sort of lied."
"Beer, but don't worry about it."
"It's fine dude, just let me get it."
"Alright."
"What's your name by the way?" she asked.
"Free," I said.
"Free? Like free-dom?" she said laughing.
"Yeah, I guess."
With the store in view, she stopped abruptly. I turned to her with a puzzled look but remained silent.
"Wait, I forgot my wallet. Stay here and I'll grab it from my car and come back."
"I can just pay for us. I think I have enough, as long as you're okay with like regular cigs and not something expensive," I said jokingly. I didn't have much money on me, but I never quite minded sharing whatever I happened to have left, as long as I could get a beer for the night.
"No, it's fine. We had a deal. Stay here, and I'll be back in like five minutes."