Nothing Makes Sense

He was somewhere between Whiskey Lullaby and Ho Hey heading towards trying to find some 70s or classic rock piece that would help make sense of things when the images flashed through his head.

They were lying in bed together, on their left sides, spooning, “where are you? Come closer?”

He smiled and acquiesed.

“I need to feel you against me, your arms around me.”

“They are always there, even when I am not.”

He wrapped her fingers in his and pulled their hands up, kissed it and sighed.


She asked him why he kept staring and he told her she was beautiful and that he couldn’t get enough of her.

“I have to warn you, I don’t think I can stop touching you.”

She smiled and told him it didn’t matter, “you have all of me forever and I’ll never say no to you.”


There were other images, flashes of memories where she told him she’d never forgive him for not finding her sooner and his words, “you know I’d fight the armies of hell and whomever else got in my way to get back to you. Sounds kind of ridiculous and stalkerish, doesn’t it.”

She just smiled and kissed him.


He looked up at the sky and smiled back at the sun he figured was smiling down upon him.

“People say things and they change their mind. Sometimes they don’t mean it and sometimes they do. People fall in and out of love. Sometimes they love the wrong person or have love at the wrong time and you just have to move on.”

He waited for lightning to strike the earth, the sound of angelic trumpets or some sort of divine response to his comment but heard nothing and shrugged his shoulders and kept walking.

“You did your best, all that you could do and it didn’t work the way you hoped. There is no shame in that.”

This time his words were met with the sound of a large truck rolling past him on the highway.

It didn’t stop and neither did he.

He figured he had walked about three miles or so from where his car had broken down and that he probably had another four to go before he would come upon civilization.

It was fitting, the car breaking down like that. Everything about his old life was crumbling around him and he took that as a sign that he was supposed to let go of it all.

Everything about his old life was crumbling around him and he took that as a sign that he was supposed to let go of it all.

Let go of what was and try not to make himself crazy asking questions of people that weren’t around to speak and or might not be honest with what they had to say.

Part of him preferred it that way because he was really angry and didn’t trust himself not to unload upon them.

And part of him feared that if he got the opportunity the anger would drain away and instead of yelling he would mumble something about how desperately he wanted to tell them what was really going on, about how he didn’t know how he kept going and he didn’t want to be vulnerable like that.

It was easier to be silent and to keep pushing forward.

“It sounds like life is a mess and in some ways it is, but fuck, it is getting really close to being really great too. I am just faking it all, like everyone else.”

A little bit further down the road he found a semi-deflated ball and started kicking it.

Dancing around it like a professional soccer player, he feinted left and then went right.


That was how he entertained himself the next few miles and then he came upon a little gas station with a store where the lady behind the counter sold him a Coke and said that “god loved him.”

He just nodded his head and she told him not to worry because god would take care of him and his family.

And then he got another flash and memories showed up again.


“We’re family now, inextricably connected forever.”

“That’s what you said then, but not how you are acting now. Now I am just a stranger, someone you once knew. I told you I could walk away and that I would. You said you would never let me, but you pushed me away.

I didn’t know whether to believe, fight or ignore you so I stayed silent and just set about living my life. Figured you were the biggest surprise of my life and that if things are/were meant to be they would change and if not, well it made for mostly good memories”

Again there were no responses from the sky, no claps of thunder or angels in the road.

So he kept walking, occasionally pausing to take another sip. The tow truck driver had offered to meet him at the station and drive him back to the car but he had said no.

The tow truck driver had offered to meet him at the station and drive him back to the car but he had said no.

He liked walking. It helped clear his head and he used the time to start mapping out how to take care of the projects he had.

There was furniture to build and a list of tools and supplies to be made. Alongside the furniture there was an old car, a ’67 Camaro that he could rebuild and restore or just junk.

The car was a serious project. It was the kind of thing he loved and could get lost in, but it was also the kind of thing that could suck money out of his wallet in a hurry.

But that wasn’t necessarily enough of a reason not to take it on. It required thought and time working with his hands and would provide a serious sense of accomplishment.

That was the kind of reward you couldn’t get any other way and he loved the way it felt to work for something worthwhile.

Back at the car he found the tow truck driver waiting for him.

“Did you have all four tires when you left the car?”


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