Tomorrow I’m going for a drive down Highway 101 along the Oregon coast with my fiance, the way I used to drive along the same highway along the coast of California (and probably some of Oregon) in my previous life.
I’ll have an .mp3 player loaded with songs from my previous life. I’m doing this as much to try to bring back memories as I am to sort of say goodbye to that life formally, since I died kind of suddenly.
At sunset, I want to find a spot to park, open the doors, and play something I loved back then loud enough that it will carry for some distance, until the sun disappears from view, or until the diffuse daylight of the overcast Oregon skies is such that I can no longer read without artificial light.
After that, I’m going to head home and try to think about what I’m going to do with my life now.
It’s still so tempting to say to the world “Dammit, I’m still here! Don’t eulogize me, I’m not done!”
Maybe it will give me some strength to see Highway 101 much the same as it’s always been, with quaint little seaside towns strung along dramatic coastlines and picturesque lighthouses. I should consider myself lucky to be in much the same position I was before, and I need to find the motivation to put forth the same amount of effort if I want to go anywhere as a writer.
Tomorrow, I say goodbye to an unhappy past and hello to an uncertain future.
