Puerto Rico

I don't know why Mike, black and milds, and I all get along so well, but we do. Whenever the three of us are together, we seem to enjoy each others company. I talk. Mike talks. The black serenely switches back and forth between us, allowing its smoke to drift off into the cool air and scatter like ideas in a brainstorm.

As Mike and I negotiate topics of discussion, throwing metaphors and examples at each other like two professors at war, trying to teach one another at the same time. We weave in and out of reality and fantasy as the black slowly fades, growing shorter and shorter with us, like a mother of three who's losing her patience.

Eventually the black completely vanishes leaving only it's cap to remind us it was once part of the conversation. I'm not sure about Mike, but I immediately miss its charming presence. I don't look forward to the day when we stop inviting black and milds to join us in our discussion.

Mike and I spoke on his back patio tonight. I ceremoniously placed the black's cap in a cup full of ashes and garbage and allowed myself a moment to miss it. Mike and I were in the middle of discussing the coming year. We also shared some lessons we learned this past year. I explained to Mike all my thoughts about creating a story out of my life in the next year, embellishing that it would be full of epic scenes. One after another we began to come up with places we could travel and things we could do and worked ourselves up. I thought of us and some friends in the mountains of Georgia some where, all taking turns saying whatever it was that the view of the mountains kneeling in front of a sky dressed in stars would induce. I imagined one of the girls in our group would begin to tell us about how much we all mean to her and begin to cry as she talks. Another girl would move in to hug her and Mike and I wouldn't make any motion to look at each other for fear of catching the other choked up. A few of us would go inside, and the others, not wanting to feel lonely in their beds that night, would linger on and talk. And although we're all tired, we would constantly keep each other up by saying, "I feel bad for everyone who went to bed, the sunrise is going to be epic." And three or four of us would make it to the sunrise. And for the rest of the trip we would have felt like we witnessed something special, although the sun rises every 24 hours.

Mike said he loves going on trips with people he doesn't know that well because it makes them closer. I think the Georgian mountains striking poses for our group would do just that.

I lit two dusty scented candles in front of me and began to play with the flames as I spoke of the scenes I wanted in my story. After listing off several American landmarks we could possibly visit, Mike pitched me the idea of going to Puerto Rico. I thought of Mike and I befriending some Puerto Ricans our age who would show us around the city. I figured they would want to take us out for drinks at a small bar, open to the ocean, so that we could still hear the waves as they arrived and departed from the shore. And later when Mike was good and drunk, I, with the help of some of the girls, would convince him to use his Spanish to order us another round. After the worst shots we've all ever taken, and as one of the natives try to figure out what the hell Mike just ordered, we would all have a good laugh. I made a mental note to check fares.

Although it's pleasant enough to daydream about an adventure, it is nothing compared to actually living it. So I'm giving myself until the end of January to plan out a trip.

Song: A Movie Script Ending- Death Cab For Cutie