Unwavering Band of Light
It was during a third reading of Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions that he understood himself to be the happiest man on the planet. The idea occurred without notice or fanfare. He was simply watering the front of his property on a quiet culdesac and noticed the light dew on the long native grasses he had cultivated. “It’s already rained,” he said out loud. “I’ll just water the big things.”
He would be sixty-two in exactly three months. He could start collecting social security. Not enough to pay the mortgage, but “it’s a start,” he said.
His happiness continued to surprise him. Feelings of wellness would emerge at random moments. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” This is in spite of just losing a best friend, attending a high school friend’s Catholic Mass yesterday, and being without a girlfriend for over two months.
His body was healthy. “As healthy as I’ve ever been,” he said out loud. “Old, sure, but I’m like an unwavering band of light pointed upward.” He took the phrase from the book. But the object of desire, the moment of the moment, was this: now, in this very second, he realized he could not be any happier.
Sure, he was currently unemployed. His son was attempting rehab for a second time in a few days and living the life of a hermit in his crowded room. The music room had been temporarily overrun with teenage mess. His son was twenty-three. “About time to grow up,” he said only to himself. He would never say that to his son. He loved his son. He had given his son everything he could think of. A place to live. Zero pressure. A love of music.
His alcoholic brother, however, had given his son the Marlboro habit. Except his son smoked menthol Morlboros. But not Black Menthols. Those were too strong, he would learn the first time he purchased a carton of cigarettes for his bear cub of a son.
Even writing this story, the man wondered at his own imagination.
His mom had given him a love of reading, optimism, and visual acuity. It was a whole family of artists. And he was given a blank piece of paper and a pen often, while his mom was getting her hair done. “You’re going to have to be patient.” It was the main thing she told him. Besides, “We’re going to have to turn those exes into plusses.” That was her most famous phrase, in her son’s mind.
His body was responding to less food and more tennis. It was amazing. Not a linear process, but if you kept skipping ice cream at the end of a meal…
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