I don’t know why I do the things I do, but everything happens for a reason.
* * *
It’s nighttime, around 9:30, and I’m still up at Race St, work boots and all. My jeans are starting to have permanent sweat stains on them because it’s getting hot. I’m sitting on a chair that looks like it came from an elementary school (it probably did) watching some guys play chess in my garage. I finish my tallboy that I picked up next door and say my goodbyes to the crowd that has become an unexpected group of friends.
I drive home–all of seven blocks–relishing the A/C that’s pouring from my vents. As I do many nights, I pull in the apartment garage and sit in my car while I wait for the song that’s playing to end (have I mentioned how much I love music?).
I’m tired. The project is wearing on me. It’s tough to measure progress a day at a time.
I get out of my car and head upstairs. Normally I would shower and fall over on the couch, done for the day. For some reason though I change into shorts, grab my camera and leave my apartment. I need some thinking/outside time.
I walk down Court St towards the Greyhound station and the bridge that spans I-71–one of my favorites for many reasons. It’s an easy way to get from downtown to Mt. Adams. There is a wild juxtaposition between life at the bottom of the bridge and life at the top. It’s also relatively steep, which makes it a good running spot.
My mind wanders as I approached the steps that lead up to the bridge. A burst of light followed closely by that unmistakable fireworks BOOM snaps my head back to reality.
I grab my camera from my pocket and start shooting. At first I think it’s just someone firing off a few shells from their house, but the bursts keep coming.
I realize this is more than an amateur event, so I start climbing higher on the bridge.
I reach the top and the fireworks are exploding at what appears to be a little over head height.
It was all pretty cool as it’s not often I see exploding balls of light at eye level.
The Finale
The shows over, and my mood has done a 180. Not that I was even in a bad mood per se, just frustrated. But now I’m just happy and grinning–my worries about Race St are fading away like the smoke trail left from the show.
* * *
I don’t know why I do the things I do, but everything happens for a reason.
I don’t know why I sat around for half an hour drinking a beer at Race St. I don’t know why I left my apartment when I did, or why I walked over to that bridge instead of down to the river. The list of actions I’ve taken for which I have little to no explanation is endless. But somehow it all makes sense when I stumble across a random fireworks show in the middle of the city.
* * *
As I walk home, I start running through pictures in my head of what Race St looked like when I bought it a couple of months ago (a la yesterday’s post). Progress is much easier to measure in months, and that thought calms me down enough to hit the sack and prepare for another day of work.
