NO HOLIDAY 3

20/03/2017

Time’s a familiar stranger, according to a text I once read, and looking back an unfamiliar stranger shadowing me from birth has become a familiar. It follows us all with many choosing to deny Its identity. Early onset asthma assaults, which scared the many adults round about, may have been where I was allowed a sense of Itself, not readily available to others. My first childhood funeral experience continued my initiation process, which was followed by others across my island birth home. These ongoing episodes were overlooked until my funeral experience in my late teens, and Its processing took a mindful turn due to Its proximity.

 

Still, I continued making friends of varying nationalities, building close relations as I went my merry way living in the moment, taking things as they were.

 

One of these moments occurred before my twenty-first birthday, when I gained employment as a doorman at a regular drinking establishment. I was the primary fundraiser myself of my post-secondary education, and I needed the work having been unsuccessful in my first year university studies. Appearing older than the required age of employment, I was able to secure this, the first of many jobs I was to hold while working through my post-secondary education.

 

On this job, I was blossoming as a social individual. I was developed a gregarious persona to create an enjoyable club environment, and acquired friendships with so-called friends steeping in envy. One acquisition included with a small group, two women and one man. We developed a closeness facilitating offsite meetings, a difficulty for me as I worked two jobs. One difficulty for the man had to do with keeping our sporting arrangement to play tennis. This primary sport, which he was keen on having me improve, as I also desired to do. He was quite a driven man, with high ambitions but he kept postponing our playdate, often slipped my mind and became a running joke fro us each time he ventured inside to club. But, one day he claimed determination for that tennis game without fail.

 

He had a girlfriend in Ottawa who was a priority, and she had him postpone yet another match in favour of another weekend visit, in spite of promised tennis event. No matter, we’ll get to it sometime, we would say. So, no tennis match that night, I reported to work as usual. Early that evening, the two women, our mutual friends, stopped by unexpectedly to see me. I couldn’t tell by their attire, but their demeanour in the late-afternoon lighting ushered in a foreboding air. They sombrely intimated that my tennis date will be postponed indefinitely at which I took a pause in processing.

 
Details of our postponement was eventually revealed to me.

On his return to Toronto along Highway 401 from visiting with his girlfriend in Ottawa, his little sports car was side-swiped by a transport truck forcing him to crash upside down in a ditch. All I could do was envisioned his accident alongside the many cancelled tennis meetings, wondering if this was simply another fateful event. Ahead was an evening of responsibilities for the enjoyment and well being of imbibing clienteles which delayed my processing of the motor-accident, not unlike our many postponed tennis matches.

 

Life goes on, the way of things along my way.

 

 

Focussing...

In Time…

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