Chapter 12 Same as it Ever Was

And you may find yourself
behind the wheel of a large automobile.
And you may find yourself
in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife.
And you may ask yourself,
Well...How did I get here?

And you may ask yourself
How do I work this?
And you may ask yourself
Where is that large automobile?
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful house!
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful wife!

Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...

Talking Heads (Once in a Lifetime)

The early morning skies have craved some citrus hue of late, and this particular Monday was no exception. I turned eastward to start the week’s whirlwind, again, driving headlong into my very own tangerine dream.

Up ahead, misty white exhaust swirled around the gathering cars at the red light, each with drivers casually sipping their steaming coffee. I was no different; I had settled into the leather seats of my nice German car and turned up the dial just so to heat them. The outside temperature read 3 degrees, though I was quite cozy on the inside.

And David Byrne was serendipitously waxing on and on and on.

So, as I was entertaining the irony of my indoor comfort (belying the outdoor tundra), just ahead of me, these man-made car clouds concealed a solitary figure waiting at the light. His left hand was on his knee, and with his right he was racing that old Harley engine.

Now, there’s no amount of clothing that could fully protect this man, at least in these types of temperatures, but I knew (even as I imagined him) that he really didn’t care much about comfort for himself. His was a unique way of constant sacrifice, ever focused upon leveling this stacked and hugely lopsided deck called humanity.

Same as it ever was.

The light turned green and I pressed ahead with the pack, finding my own comfort in these thoughts. But, wouldn’t you know, he pulled over and motioned me to the side of the road.

Damn. Why couldn’t he return in the spring, or at least when the temperatures achieved some form of sanity?

I swerved to the right shoulder and parked right behind him. It was so stinkin’ cold, or at least it looked like it was, and so I was conflicted about getting out. I decided to stay in the car as he got off his bike and walked toward me. Fighting the instinct to reach for my license and registration, I lowered my window with the touch of a button and he reached in to hug me, which caught me by surprise.

He entered my zone of comfort to touch me.

Same as it ever was.

After he let go, I jumped out quickly, you know, to do the hug right and his smell was familiar—like always, it was a beautiful mixture of the outdoors and ransomed leather. Today it reminded me of winter’s dominance; of frosted evergreens and distant fireplace smoke.

I pulled back from the embrace and he left his hands on my face and they were surprisingly warm.

I’ve missed you, he blurted out, his breath visible in this arctic air.

Not: why did you disobey me? Not: where have you been? Just:

I’ve missed you.

Yeah, I’ve been sidetracked, it would seem.

Same as it ever was.

I dug my hands into my pockets and looked at the horizon. Then I looked over at my gloves, which I had left on my front seat.

Are you ready to come back? He wasn't shivering, but I was.

Of course I knew that I hadn’t been following him very closely. But, to me, it seemed less of a black and white issue; to come back I would actually have to leave, completely. His distance always seems more gradual and retractable at any time, while I attended to other seemingly important details.

Same as it ever was.

Still, much has been written recently of all that clouds my intentions, noble as they are; or at least I've danced around them from time to time. But, I suppose in so doing, the craved reality of him is indeed quite far off, and I know I’m missing the adventure.

I’m ready, I told him. But every time I explode out of the blocks, I fall flat on my face. It seemed like a fitting metaphor. By the way, I was thinking less of track and field, and more of those slalom skiers. You know, given the temperatures.

He smiled. He watched the cars going by and then he leaned against my car.

Just get back up.

Just get back up? That’s the wisdom I’m getting from this Deity?

Jeff, you have my grace and it will not be withdrawn. Take the discomfort of failure and the wounds of falling down and turn them into a blessing for someone else. Don’t retreat back into your own comfort and wealth to lick your wounds. Come and find me out here, where I’m at work, and when you arrive, give me your brokenness. Trust me when I say that pretty soon, you won’t be falling down quite as often.

He climbed back on his ride. He raced his engine to warm it up and turned his head as he left.

Just get back up, Jeff.

And you may ask yourself
What is that beautiful house?
And you may ask yourself
Where does that highway go?

I could barely feel my toes as he rumbled away. Friends and neighbors on their way to work stared at me on the side of the road, wondering what possessed me to leave the inside of my gloriously warm car.

And you may ask yourself
Am I right?
Am I wrong?
And you may tell yourself

MY GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE?

I returned to my now fully heated seat. The outdoor temperature had risen a whole degree to four. I put my gloves on to return some sense of feeling to my fingertips and I merged back on the road behind a passing car, its exhaust rising defiantly to conceal the pigment of the fruit inspired sunrise.

And I was comfortable once more as the Word was getting out. The song was just ending by that point.

Same as it ever was.