Life

After an evening spent eating birthday cake and swapping stories with Whitney and a few of her friends, I began the long trek home in the pouring rain. Realizing that it was almost 2:00am, I nipped into 7-11 for two cans of Rockstar. One for tonight and one for the morning. A quick trip down the highway and I turned down my street, only to see a car reversing down the street fairly quickly. Finding it odd, but nothing unusual for a Friday night, I continued down the road.

That’s when I spotted the car in the ditch. The back bumper was stuck on the back of the ditch, while the front was wedged into the rise on the other side, facing the road. Even with how slick the roads were, it’s hard to imagine the move the driver must have had to pull in order to end up in such a jam. Concerned that someone might have been injured, I pulled over, hit my blinker, and started walking back toward the car. Running through my first-aid and CPR courses in my head (information I haven’t used in almost four years, but always seems to come back to me in times of need), I prayed everyone was okay.

As I approached the car, I realized that the driver’s-side door was hanging open, the occupant nowhere to be found. A young couple pulled over and told me they had already called 911. It turned out they had witnessed the car driving on the wrong side of the road and saw it fly into the ditch. They had been the car I saw reversing down the road — they were looking for a street name. The driver, they said, was extremely intoxicated. Apparently, he had already tried to drive the car out of the ditch a number of times. Considering the location of the accident, right in front of a house where two small children live, I was shocked.

While waiting for the paramedics and police to arrive, we watched as the driver drunkenly stumbled out of someone’s backyard and climb back into the car. He seemed to be physically fine, up and walking around. The young lady waiting with us was concerned about our safety, so we kept a fair distance from the drunk. After a few more futile attempts to dislodge the car, he finally gave up.

The police and paramedics arrived in force. I later commented to one of the firefighters that they had “brought the cavalry out”. He informed me that any car accident automatically brings out two trucks, in case they have to peel someone out of the vehicle. Once the driver saw the flashing lights, he feebly tried to crawl behind some nearby trees. He was quickly retrieved by the paramedics. Unfortunately, my statement wasn’t all that helpful to the police, as I was unable to place him behind the wheel. So, thanking the young couple (I regret never asking their names) for stopping and making the call, I climbed into the van and headed for home.

It’s a shame that people still drink and drive, putting the lives of themselves and other at tremendous risk. Especially on a residential street where, at any time during the day, children are running about and riding bikes. It is only because of luck and circumstance that no one was hurt tonight. It gives me tremendous hope, however, to know that there are still people who will stop and do the right thing, even if it means standing in the pouring rain at 2:00am. So, to that young couple, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

It’s all over. College, I mean. Sure, convocation isn’t for another few weeks, but as far as classes and placement are concerned, I’m all done. It all feels very anti-climatic. Here I am, at the tail end of four years of post-secondary education, and all I feel is panic. Okay, maybe not panic. That might be giving this feeling a little bit too much credit. Bewilderment, perhaps?

It dawned on me recently that this is the first time in my life that all options are open. Everything up to this point has been “the next step”. Elementary school turned into high school, which turned into two years of college, which turned into two more years of college. So, three diplomas later, I’m at a point where I can truly decide where my life goes from here. It’s all up to me. It’s an odd feeling, and I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to come to grips with it.

It’s not that I’m afraid of screwing it up, although I am a little. I guess I just don’t want to waste the opportunity. I don’t want to wake up one day to find myself in some job I hate, surrounded by a wife and kids, pushing 50, and feeling like I haven’t done anything with my life. Not that having a wife and kids and a job is a bad place to find yourself, it’s not. But all in due course. Call it whatever you like, but this definitely feels like some sort of quarter-life crisis. It’s time, I think, to get out some of the ideas that have been bouncing around my skull for the last four years. Time to travel a little bit. To focus on photography and writing and web development. To really give this life a fuckin’ go.

As always, it’s going to be a hell of a ride.

We watched as our fireworks, hastily purchased on a credit card already saddled with debt, lit up the night sky. Waves crashed against the rocks while we gazed up at every explosion, sitting on the playground. 10 or 15 strong, we lit one after another, friends of old and friends of new. The air was chilly but we stood close, arms wrapped around shoulders and backs.

When it was over, we departed and found ourselves sitting around drinks and food. Laughing and joking, we told stories of high school antics and adventures. We remembered good times and bad, talked shit and made connections. Time stopped. We talked until night turned into morning and we realized that, in no time at all each one of us would have to wake up and begin a new day. We said our goodbyes, hugged, and drove away. And I realized, as traffic flowed around me and the city began its slumber, that I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect evening.

The last two weeks have been a blur of placement, work, and friends. Although, not nearly as many friends as I would’ve liked. There’s just no time anymore. No time for the kind of memories I love and cherish. Barely time for drinks and laughs, let alone adventure and fun. I wrangle code by day and sport an orange Home Depot apron by night. Somewhere, in-between I have a life of some sort. It will all be over soon, I suppose. Another week. Rainy days always make me feel like this. A little crazy and a bit too much inside my own head.

My bedroom is dark and my feet are propped up on the small green table beside the bed. The blinds are open and I’m watching the neighbours fill the sky with fireworks. Explosions of colour and sound. This is the first time in three years that I haven’t taken part. Last year saw a $250 fireworks purchase. This year I’m feeling a little bit left out. And broke. The neighbours are putting on a fairly good show, though, so it will have to do until Canada Day.

There are plenty of things coming up to occupy myself with. The end of placement, graduation, and a Matthew Good show. What an odd period of my life. Everything is in some sort of transition, except nobody seems to know what any of it is transitioning to. It’s exciting and frightening and all that other stuff everyone my age seems to be going through. We’re all exploding. Like fireworks.