It had been a long and stressful year; no one seemed to care about me. I was completely alone and isolated and my job took me away from my home for eight hours every day and it took all my energy from me. I would come home and sit around for an hour, read a book, sometimes relax with a beer but mostly just waiting for my dreams to take me away. A year in the boots of a robot can actually tell you a lot about yourself. I was in fantastic shape at least, I tell myself. I was a lumberjack and in love with the atmosphere of it. The intensity of everyday physical exertion always attracted me. However, after eleven months of intense work, the local shrink and my only friend in the town ordered me to find time to find myself or he’ll write a recommendation stating mental instability and a general danger to all those who work around me.
I had a month or so, four weeks to be exact. It was the month of January in Alaska, outside was not exactly the ideal place to find myself. I went back to my friend and ridiculed him on his choice of timing. He laughed and gave me a peculiar challenge. “The attic of the house is the easiest representation of the human mind, unclutter it, I challenge you to utilize every object in your attic within the next three and a half weeks.” He said. I left pretty angry at the rather arduous task but I was kind of amused at the thought of what may be in store for me.
Upon the clutter that was my attic floor lay objects of intense peculiarity. I had never really paid attention to anything here, some were mine from earlier years, some my fathers and a few that came with the house. The way they were together reminded me of the statue outside of Princeton that they called abstract art. I was starting to get it though, it’s just representation of the randomness of life and how it can look beautiful. There were some boxes in accordance with my past economic ventures, some suitcases, a green lawnmower, scissors, roses, coloring boxes, a camera, a lantern, ice skates and a deer head.
I took the ice skates as my first adventure, I was dressed warmly and there was still light outside. The lake was a frozen reflection of heaven and my skates the pen that wrote its stories. At first I stayed near the shore but when I was finally comfortable that the ice would hold my weight I ventured out further. I twirled and sped and jumped. On my way back to the shore I got gutsy and decided to twist in the air. Last time I did anything even close to that was eight years ago trying to impress a few girls at the mall rink. I jumped and twisted in the air, so carelessly – so beautifully. I crashed on my butt and couldn’t stop laughing. I laughed the entire night, at one point I don’t remember what I was laughing at or even when the last time I laughed was. I laughed at jokes in bars but I really never laughed so carelessly since Mary left me three years ago.
The next day I took it easy as my back was hurting from my fall. I took the roses and the camera and decided to take some cool photography. At first I would place it on inanimate objects and watch them become livelier with these plastic roses. My coffee table stopped becoming just a coffee table and became a holder of life, and apart from that it became homier. I gathered my courage and headed to town. The cold left many people inside so I went to the nearest pub. At first I asked the employees to hold the rose, next I went to the sweet old people. I knew I was attracting attention and many people wanted to be in my picture but wouldn’t approach me. I approached a rather drunk middle aged woman and gave it to her. Before I said anything she jumped on the bar and put it in between her teeth. The picture is by far my favorite and it turned the bar into an upheaval of laughter. The bartender asked me to stay and have a few drinks and I respectfully agreed. A few guys sent me apple martinis joking about my manhood but honestly just to strike a conversation. That is when I met Luanne. Luanne was forward, rude, loud, and by far the most beautiful lady I have ever seen. We started talking and I completely forgot my task, but I didn’t mind. We agreed to meet again after I was done with my adventure – she absolutely adored the idea. That was my first sleepless night I have had in over a year. It wasn’t quiet sleepless as I slept around eleven. Compared to my nine o clock bed time, it was quiet the change. I could only imagine about her perfect olive skin, her deep brown eyes, stunning smile and the adorable dimples that made me want to say dumb jokes just to see. Before I fell to slumber I prayed to god that I may dream of her through the night. And I did.
In the morning I rose and got my pictures developed. They came out much better than I thought, it was art. I was so angry at myself though, I had forgotten to take a picture of Luanne. My favorite was the drunken lady sitting on the bar. It was so natural, so innocent in a way. I used the scissors to cut out a large piece of paper from the roll of paper I had and used my coloring boxes to draw out the photograph. It took me all day and looked rather childish. She was a bit un-proportional but it simply was her in essence. I took the picture back to the bar and the owner bought it and the photo, framed it and hung it in the back. This was a good reason for me to get out of my house and it will be nice to eat and drink under a picture and portrait I created. I found it was the things I created and the emotions I evoked that made me enjoy life. Before I left the bartender gave me a slip of paper that Luanne had given him to give to me.
She was leaving for San Diego, she gave me a number to reach her at and the name of the apartment she was staying at. Underneath that it wrote, “If you can’t leap you can’t live.” I went home rather disappointed. It was the first person I had really connected with in a long time. I slept and dreamt of dying alone, cold and tired. I dreamt of sitting in the same seat my dad died in for the rest of my life. I woke up before the sunrise and went to the attic. I noticed the deer head as it stared at me with eyes that begged for life. “My head should be wear yours is my friend, you lived your life – I worked it.”
The next morning I took a suitcase from the attic and decided that San Diego must be nice this time of year. Money wasn’t much of a problem for me; I had nothing to spend what I earned on. I decided to visit my shrink friend before I left. He cordially invited me into his home and I immediately thanked him for what he had done for me. Not only had I gained back my youthfulness, and let a girl – I learned so much more about myself.
I arrived at her apartment and it looked nothing like I imagined. Then again San Diego is never what you expect from a town. It was nine o clocks at night when I knocked on her door. Long story short, we fell in love. Before I left to go back I asked her to hold a rose so that I may take a picture. I asked her again when I came back to San Diego after quitting my job. I asked her one more time to pose with it at our wedding. Now I bring her a rose every night as I come to our little apartment from my florist shop. After fifty years we remarried and inscribed on our ring was a little quote that she made up to get me to come to her. Leaping is living said hers, loving is leaping said mine.
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