A Day on the River
Have you ever had something happen that surprised you, something unexpected that changed your life, that energized every fiber in your body? An event or incident that captured your imagination and altered your perception of life’s predictability? Such an event happened to me, on a five day cross-country bike ride through the desert with an old friend from college, who had contacted me a couple of months before. That day we spent on the river took me from the routine trials of life into a mysterious, wondrous, confusing new reality.
Paul had been living in California, where he had taken a job after getting his degree, working for a large accounting firm, making good money and recently transferred back here to Dallas. We had parted ways when he went off to graduate school. It had been nearly twenty years. Pleasantly surprised when he called, we arranged to meet over a couple of beers.
I recognized him when he walked in, waved him over. He had aged well—the first thing I noticed as he approached the booth. Twenty years had vanished in the blink of an eye. Seeing him again, all the old memories came flooding back. We shook hands, then hugged, glad to have an opportunity to catch up on each other’s lives.
A dimly lit half-bar, half-restaurant, it was a crowded place: live music, lot of drinking and camaraderie. After moving to the quietest booth we could find, we had been talking about the old days a half hour by the time we finished the first beer. I was secretly relieved his hair had thinned more than mine.
“Things don’t turn out exactly the way you thought they would, do they?” he said after the waiter delivered the second round. He shrugged and looked around the dining room. “I don’t know. Can’t say I haven’t been happy. Successful career, terrific wife.” He shrugged again. “You hit forty, then wonder where all the time went, what you’ve done with your life. Sometimes it seems like there should’ve been more, like something’s missing.”
Some of those same thoughts had occurred to me. “I know what you mean,” I said. “You think about all the things you haven’t done, but you have your job, your family to think about.”
“What did you end up getting into?” he asked.
“Electrical engineering. We design and oversee the installation of electrical systems in high-rises.”
Suddenly he seemed distant, like his mind had wandered to something else. I wasn’t sure he was listening. He was staring at my forearm, resting on the table, my hand wrapped around a nearly full glass of beer. His eyes lifted and met mine. “Sounds exciting.”
