The appointment I had with my podiatrist ran a lot later than expected today, so by the time I got home I wasn't really in the mood for anything, especially considering how I'd just spent the last money I'm likely to see in a while.
I slumped down on my bed and glanced out the window to see the sky painted perfectly. It always, by the way, is painted perfectly. But tonight made me think of nights like tonight of old. The sky was dark and gray, compacted like a snow that has lasted overnight, and at the edges it went light, fresh, and I watched as the white turned darker until only a scrim of white remained. It would be blown away like a snow dusting, or it would freeze and become one with the snow by morning.
On a night like tonight I would be getting ready to go out drinking with friends. Depending on which group, I might just toss a shot of whiskey down before heading to the local bar, or I'd have a couple of drinks under my belt before driving out to whatever town we'd be drinking in.
The sky darkened until it all looked compacted and ready to turn to ice for the hungover shuffle the next morning. But as the light vanished entirely, I drew in a breath of that sinus-clearing cold freshness of a winter night, and it was that last breath of fresh air before going into a bar and drinking everything in sight.
There was a freedom in nights like tonight (and mischief) because it was the weekend, and I didn't have to work the next day. I didn't even need to wake up my own bed. And if I had my breakfast whiskey waiting for me? What of it? I had another day to fuck off, too.
Fuck me, I miss weekends.
If I was lucky I'd have a warm hand in mine, the light perfume of a girlfriend on the chill of the night.
I thought back to those nights--O Discordia! gone forever!--because I feel nostalgic when I'm hopeful. I am almost never hopeful, so I never give up the chance to feel a nostalgia honestly found, not the cheap crap they try to sell you in commercials.
My new podiatrist seems very surprised that my foot looks so well. She says I'm healing pretty quickly. There were two drains for the discharge, and one of them is almost completely healed. She said if the other does the same, and everything looks good when the stitches come out, then we can reconstruct my bad foot.
When this year started, I was pretty sure my bad foot was infected. I tried to stay in denial, but the signs built up to the point of no return, so I had to go to the ER. I thought I was taking my last steps as I went from my car to the hospital. I thought my foot would be gone, and I'd be drinking myself to death soon. By now, in fact. I had a good run. Fuck. So it goes. It was so real I saw myself in a vision drinking the cheapest shit I could find directly from the plastic handle, watching as blood seeped through my stump bandages.
What I did *not* expect was to not only still have my foot but also have the possibility of rebuilding it so I wouldn't need a brace anymore and would be able to walk like normal again. My God! I would be able to go for my night walks again! I'd be able to go hiking at forest preserves again! I could even go down that one path in Fullersburg where you eventually see the other path on a cliff above you, where the tree root goes all the way up. I could climb that fucker again! Just like I used to. And I'd get up to the top, push myself to my feet with no problem and brush my hands off. I could go to the second waterfall and the island where no one has been in decades. I wonder if that's still true, but I'd be able to go find out for myself.
I have hope again, and that's something I never expected to feel again. No, I'm never going to go back in time to nights just like tonight. I wouldn't be able to drink in those places or anywhere, anyway. But instead of sitting inside like tonight, I could go out for a long walk, maybe all the way down to Spring, see how the bars are hopping, but maybe staying outside. And then I could walk back, the fresh crisp cold night air in my lungs, and I could feel like I used to in those old days. Not the old days. *Like* the old days.
And that's maybe the best I can get for the rest of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment