Douglas Clark
-Head writer, The Inspiration Engine
-Head writer, The Inspiration Engine
Standing in the lunch line I notice hot pastrami on rye is
on special. I haven't had one in a very long time and immediately I'm flush
with memories of my dad taking me to New York City for his work and treating me
to a classic deli style sandwich. I order one and as I think about eating it my mind wanders into its
own past.
I think of my childhood: that huge park with the weeping willows
lining the long driveway up to the playground, baseball games at Yankee Stadium,
my best friend Brian, and a strange feeling of nostalgia for an age where the
future seemed so positive and the feeling that greatness was a certainty.
The
cook calls out my number and I grab the hot Styrofoam container. I pick up some
mustard and open the lid. Bonus, curly fries! I get some ketchup packets and as I head for
the counter I hear Brian's voice echo in my head, "it's cool when you get those
bonus fries down at the bottom of the bag. It's like they're a surprise when
all the others are gone". Right on B.
Sipping on my cherry coke I pull out the
money and pay for lunch. I look right at the napkins but fail to grab any. It
reminds me of junior year in college. I grabbed napkins after every meal and
had a dresser full of them at year's end. Funny enough a few months after that I
got the Black Death version of the flu and used every single napkin blowing my
nose. It's hotter than hell outside but I'm stuck in a cube all day so I find some
shade and dig into my sandwich.
For a moment I remember all the lunches I had
eaten alone while working at a job I had in Texas. It was always hot there.
Those memories fill me with a profound sense of loneliness. It was a sad time
in my life... Then I remember here in SoCal the ocean is just a few miles away.
I'm happy again.
The pastrami is good but not great. No golden spicy mustard
just fancy yellow. Its not the same but I deal with it. I miss my dad. We
haven't seen a Yankee game together in decades. Lunch time is always just a few
minutes too short. I'm wishing I could just leave and go to the beach. I know
that's why we have weekends but there's just something so alluring about
playing hooky. I chomp on the last few fries and suck up all the cherry coke
left in my cup.
I wish Brian could have joined me for lunch. Good friends are
hard to find and always worth keeping. I've got to go back to work even though
I wish I would working on my novel. I need a vacation.
Thanks for reading.
Questions and comments
are welcome.
