He opened the door to the men's restroom expecting to see some dilapidated, not cleaned in the last two weeks, run of the mill, middle of nowhere gas station bathroom. The kind where the actual bathroom is attached around the back side of the building, and the lock is not so much a lock, as it is just a heavy door with a with a bit of metal attached to the opposite side that once resembled a regular bathroom stall lock. Well, that's exactly what Roger found when he walked into the bathroom of the Gas and Go gas station. A rather duplicitous name when he came to think about it considering the last time he had visited a Gas and Go, he left with a hot dog that did not agree with his stomach and that required him to roll down his car window about 15 minutes after leaving the parking lot. He decided to forgo getting a hot dog on this trip.
As Roger went to relieve himself of the breakfast burrito that he had consumed earlier that day, he was very much reminded that he was no longer a young 20 something who could eat whatever he wanted, and not worry about the havoc it would reap upon his bowels. He had just turned 50 at the end of April, and he was starting to realize he was no longer the man he once was. More than just the obvious signs of aging, grey hair, wrinkled skin, and more nose and hear hair than evolution should really allow to grow on a person, but the things that you could not view from the outside. This change was more personal because he was facing the reality of the fact that he, at his core, had become a different person, and he wasn't all too sure if he liked the person he had become.
As he turned and sat down, expecting to be upon the throne for some time, he wiped the sweat from his brow because there was no escaping the feeling of being slightly damp in Arizona in late July. The air conditioning in his car has gone out a few months ago but he never had it fixed because when one lives in San Francisco, air conditioning for your car, or your home for that matter, are not necessities. He was very much regretting this decision now. The Arizona heat had caused Rogers legs to sweat so much that even his shorts stuck to him, a sensation he was not too fond of as he was preparing to take a seat.
After a moment, he began to scan the room, waiting for nature to take its course. There wasn't anything special about the restroom. It was apparent at one point the Gas and Go owners made an attempt to liven the place up with a basket of potpourri on the bathroom sink, but its sent had gone long ago. However, it is the thought that counts. As he continued to look about the room he noted the the walls of the bathroom were etched with the writings of passersby. He never really understood what prompted a person to write on a bathroom stall, but it provided something to do while he waited, so for that he was grateful.
A few minutes passed by, and Roger now with his hands clasped together in such a way that it looked as though he was praying, was almost finished when he looked to his left and saw a piece of travelers graffiti that caught his eye. It read 'How much of human life is lost in waiting? -RWE'.
"RWE", he thought as he scratched his head. He could not place the initials, and was searching his memory for the name that corresponded to them. He recognized the words, but could not place where or why he had known them.
"RWE" he said.
Then, like striking a match, he remembered. Ralph Waldo Emerson, a writer he had become rather enamored with back during his college days. Like an incoming wave, memories flooded Roger's mind. He was suddenly reminded of a time where his worries were minimal and is world of opportunity was wide open. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips thinking about a time were he and his college roommate decided to take it upon themselves to remove all of their dorm room furniture and place on the roof of their residence hall. He remembered telling the building director that his astronomy professor urged them to 'examine the stars' as often as possible, and they just saw it as a means of being devoted to their studies. One could not adequately study the sky from the small confines of their dorm room after-all.
Roger smiled, reminiscing of a time when he felt unlimited. A life that was very much contradictory to the one that he was currently living. He thought about how little 'waiting' he did back then, and how much of his life now was consumed by it. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with this scribbling on the wall; all of what it meant and all of what it could mean.
With his mind racing, Roger gathered himself and walked to the half way clean sink, and began to wash his hands. Moving his hands under the water, lathering them with soap, he found himself in a daze. Confused about what these new unearthed feelings, a fluttering of excitement and intimidation, with the realization that if he waited now, he would keep waiting for the rest of his life. He would keep on on the road he was currently taking and would never be able to turn back around.
Before exiting the bathroom, Roger collected a small pool of water in his hands, and splashed his face. In need of some relief not only from the heat, but now from a decision he felt as though he had to make.
As he walked out the door and back to his car, Roger knew now what he had to do, what he felt propelled to do. He reached the door of is 2010 Honda Civic, and as he opened the door and sat down, he knew what he was about to do was going against everything his brain was telling him to do, but was thumping to the same beat that his heart was playing. He started up the engine and turned on the radio. He hadn't realized what was playing before he arrived, but now he flipped through the stations until he landed on David Bowie's Major Tom. He had forgotten how much he liked this song, and with his tunes set for the journey that now lay ahead, he began to drive a way from the Gas and Go. As he reached the road he paused, looking towards the direction he should have been going. He should have been going home, back to San Francisco, however that was not the direction he would be going. Instead, he was turning around, going back the way he had come. He was going back, and as he turned out of the parking lot, he knew he couldn't wait any longer.
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To see my boyfriends response to his first prompt of the 1 year, 52 stories challenge, click here.
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