Honea Express

Posts Tagged ‘fun’

Across the calendar a line of Xs stand upon the dates that we have kissed goodbye. Each line an ending, a memory, and one step closer to hugging someone at the last possible minute.

The year goes out with a bang, just as it arrived. It spends its last week sleeping off holiday treats and shopping fatigue. As the end draws near it makes a reservation, shaves what’s hairy, and puts on something that pops. It’s a party after all, and the year deserves it.

In the wings waits the next one. It is young and naive, full of hope and promises. It watches the current year and notes what it will do differently. It watches and it waits, one eye always on the hourglass. It too will dress in something smart, but not nearly as outdated.

People pull out resolutions and change the date accordingly. The one becomes an awkward two and everyone is the wiser. They are losing weight and quitting vices. They are eating healthier and trying harder. They have waited a year to repeat themselves. The first week is the hardest, and often the only.

The children want to stay up until midnight because everyone is doing it and the reviews are fantastic. They laugh every time someone makes a joke about seeing them next year. They are alive with apple juice and Chex mix.  They are why the new year rings.

The year will fall, another will rise to take its place, and the world will carry on regardless. There may be song and a spot or two of dancing. Laughter is strongly encouraged.

Happy New Year. You deserve it.

The roads were narrow and slick with sweat. The whiskey fell from our pores and grew lost beneath the current in which we waded. The air was layered with lingering lust and the promise of magnolias. It was midday and people were dancing in the streets. It was as dangerous as it was carefree, and upon the faces were the storied smiles of hard living in the big easy.

We made our way one drink at a time. We ate too much and slept too little. The hours between the end of the day and the start of another were filled with laughter and the deep breaths that live around it.

Jazz danced with every word. He swayed. She threw her arms into the nearness of the night. You just stood there, knowing, and nodded. I sipped my whiskey and handed you the bottle every time your glass went dry.

Ours was a group of revolving cameos, each entrance a chance for applause and each exit a time for tears. We were filmed before a live studio audience. Some stayed more than others.

Everyone will tell you what we learned and how we did it. Everyone will tell you how it all went well and it all went wonderful. Everyone would be right. It was just as everyone says, but with a better beat. And the beat went on.

I miss New Orleans in that forgotten hour, when the bartender hands you one last one last one and moments get thrown back like sacks of memories slapped across your shoulder. The door swings open and a train goes by, the sun is rising and the beer is cold. The laughter as loud as ever.