Jamie hugged his savior for the evening close, breathing deeply the sweet scent of his cologne, hoping some may rub off on him. The weight of the man’s arm around his shoulders shielded the cold, the man’s voice warmed his heart. For this brief moment he was in another place. Human contact a catalyst to a dimension he often forgot existed.
Taken to Jersey, to his mother’s arms, 1985. Comfort, safety, and innocence in those years. Nigh forgotten times, dream-like times, memories of those times lined in a rainbowesk light. Food and warmth and love all in surplus, taken for granted. Where had it all gone?
The man’s arm slid down and away as he patted Jamie’s back; the retrospective shattered. As the man slid three dollars into Jamie’s hand the memories remained in the past, but the feelings from that era long past were fresh in heart. Warmth, love, overtook him. With perhaps a bit too much pace and yearning in his shaky voice, he spoke through the crisp winter air, “Thank you, if you see me ’round don’t be a stranga. Thank you, please, you my friend, you my friend man.” The man smiled at Jamie, he’d heard the sincerity; he reveled in it for a moment, tipped his hat, and walked away.
Jamie walked to the gas station and bought some hot chocolate and a 40 of OE, he pocketed some deli meat turkey too. He’d figured out over the years that if he bought some things while he stole it usually turned out okay. On his way out the Timex from the lost & found beeped midnight, he hurried back across the street to the abandoned motel shed where he’d stayed for months. He burst in through the rusty hole in the back siding to be immediately enveloped by a sea of arms, embraces warm and snug; by his kids; by their love; by Thanksgiving.
Catalytic love,
Cataclysmic lives,
When they come together,
Everyone thrives.
16th Street 
Leave a Reply