Turning the page

Flashing neon lights have marched for months around one square on my mental calendar: December 31, 2008. I heaped my goodbyes and losses into a truck and watched it drive away. My lessons learned and invaluable experiences were packed neatly into the suitcase I sat on, eagerly watching the horizon for the arrival of 2009. It was right on time. I looked over the old scribbles in my journal and turned the page to look at the blank lines. I'm optimistic about the words I imagine there.

Here's what I actually sat down to write about: new year's eve in Denver.

Before I went north, my dad and mom took me to Jake and Telly's, a Greek restaurant in Old Colorado City. Our East London waitress recommended the Mixed Mezze appetizer, a sampler including dolmadikas, gyro meat, kalamata olives, feta cheese, meatballs, etc. All delicious. Dad ordered the manly Lamb Shank as his entree, and Mom and I split The Samurai, a seaweed-wrapped salmon on a bed of rice with cucumber and onions. Dessert was Chocolate Mousse. I would be Greek, if only for the food.



After dinner, I rode with some friends to Denver. Our destination was an early-1900's bungalow on the corner, down the street from Washington Park. Inside was a virtual high-school reunion and a bloodhound. It was strange getting reacquainted with people I hadn't talked to in over six years, but I enjoyed every minute. When the clock reached 11, seven of us drove a few minutes into downtown Denver to watch the fireworks go off from 16th Street. At the stroke of 12 we were running down Larimer Street because the fireworks were at 16th, we were at 19th and could only see glimmers of the show in the windows of the buildings. We arrived at 16th to find people packed from one side of the road to the other, some with faces to the sky, some lost in the kiss of their sweetheart, and the little boy in front of us who was lost in a world with his lightsaber. The mild fireworks show ended, and we suddenly found ourselves at the front of a crowd we had just been behind. There was only one direction to go, so when my group stopped to take pictures, I felt like a rock sticking up out of a river as people streamed by on either side. I can't pinpoint the moment I heard Denver calling my name, but I know it snuck up on me. Now I'm trying to think of every excuse to go back.