Trying to get myself into bed wasn’t the most comforting thing ever, as one of my greatest gifts, my active mind, was also the worst at falling asleep. No matter the time-of-day countless thoughts shot across my mind working on what I had to do the next day or a problem at work I was facing. It was helpful, but on the night before a big day it meant that it always took an abnormal large amount of time to fall asleep.

Normally, I would stay up so late that I wasn’t falling asleep, more like passing out. It was fine, but it made waking up that much worse since I felt like I never really got a good night’s sleep. So, on big nights like these I would always just lay here in bed with my eyes closed, trying desperately, oh so desperately for my mind to fall asleep and for me to be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight.

I wasn’t sure for how long I laid like this, laying arms directly at my sides like I was pressed in some sort of coffin. My one room apartment seemed quieter then normal, without much distinct sound. In the distance you could hear people talking loudly, but it was never too loud for me. Instead, it seemed like the noise was emanating from a faraway land, too distant to have any impact on me.

Closing my mind once again, I could still feel my thoughts whizzing in my head at seemingly impossible speeds, digesting the work I needed to get done tomorrow, the people I needed to say goodbye to, the last bit of work I needed to finish up, there was so much, yet it seemed like this was a bigger step then I was making it out to be.

Finally breaking the silence in my room, I let out a terrific sigh and got out of my bed. Opening the shades by my bed revealed a beautiful stary night painting the skyline of suburbia a beautiful dark blue hue. It really was a breathtaking sight, one that I would never really get over. Sliding out of bed, I made my way towards my closet, expertly navigating across my room by starlight. Sliding into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, I slip out of my tiny apartment into the starry night.

Tonight’s not the night to pass out, but tonight’s also not the night to be wasting if my mind wanted to work, I would let it do its thing for now.

Streetlights flickered as I made my way through the empty streets, everyone else having long gone home. White picket fences seemed to contrast strangely with the starlight, seemingly highlighting the cracked sidewalk even more. All this time my mind was already cranking through the exit interview, the final papers HR needed me to sign before I was completely free from the company.

I wasn’t sure where I was walking to, and that didn’t concern me. Instead, I simply walked down the road, just thinking about my life, my future and letting the flow of the road take me. During the late hours of the night, it always seemed like I was alone in the world it was so quiet. This solemn vigil would always inevitable be interrupted by a lone car but would always restart a few minutes after the car had passed out of ear range.

There was a quiet wind tonight, it was a warm comforting wind, like a caress. It sent a shiver down my spine, but the warm summer air would always warm me up afterwards. Cicadas could be heard in the distance, chirping their song. It truly was a wonderful night, yet it seemed to be tinged with this lonely isolation.

There wasn’t anyone I wanted to talk to either, no one to meet and honestly, I didn’t want to talk either. I just enjoyed the fake silence, one filled with the countless sounds of the night. Just like a stone caught in the ebb and flow of the river, I moved along to the tune of the road.

Soon I find myself on main street, basking in the glow of the streetlight it almost feels like the sun is hitting down on me, shocking me out of my revere. Countless people are walking by me now, off to do what people do, to meet friends, to hurry home to a lover, maybe some are running late to their night shift.

Watching everyone flow past me it felt like I was caught on a rock in this river of people streaming past me. Remaining motionless under the streetlight wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I once again looked down at my feet and moved my way through the crowd.

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Walking through this crowd of people seemed to tinge my night with an even more depressing mood. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew where I’ve been. My grandfather used to say that not knowing where you were going was half the fun, discovering new trails in the woods was always his favorite. He was long dead now, having passed away some years ago. His death was one of the few things that surprised me, in just three months the ninety-six-year-old who could still walk without a cane passed away of leukemia. He lived only two days longer than his wife, my grandmother. Their love was an old love, one for the ages. They loved each other dearly and loved their children even more, being related to them was one of my greatest prides.

Staring into the night sky I wondered what my grandpa would think of me now, what he would do in my possession.

I could almost hear what he would say, “Son, you might be lost in more ways than one.” Then he would turn away gruffly and give me advice. I mourned his death, and I missed him dearly, but I knew he was where he needed to be, right by my grandmother’s side.

I too, was stuck on an old love, one that always seemed to rear its head whenever there was a moment of silence within the storm of my consciousness. This old love had ruined “love” for me, but ruin wasn’t really the right word, spoiled was probably the correct term for it. I didn’t regret loving her, and wherever she was now I hope she didn’t regret loving me. She never really broke my heart, to me it was a sacred love, unspoiled by the test of time.

My grandfather had done his bit, he had earned his place as a comet among the stars streaking to wherever my grandmother was now.

Staring up at the night sky I could see some starts twinkling in the night sky. I never wondered where my grandparents were, I knew it just as deeply as I knew the sky was blue, that my grandparents were twinkling diamonds somewhere up there, looking down upon me.

I wonder if she was up there, also looking down on me. I wonder if she was mad, I couldn’t keep my entire promise, I wonder if she is happy that I didn’t? I wanted to do nothing more then join her up there, but I knew I hadn’t put in the time, I hadn’t earned my space among the stars.

Looking back down at my feet, I wondered if she was disappointed with how I spent my time. I wonder if she resented me for it, wasting time like this.

Looking back up at the stars with tears streaming down my face I begged for forgiveness. Almost as if answering me, a lonely cloud slowly drifted past, obscuring my view of the moon and a large portion of the sky. After the cloud passed by the moon and stars seemed to be mocking me, mocking my conviction, mocking my right.

Therefore, I hated the night, I wanted to hide from it so much. Fighting back the desperate urge to scream, I simply looked back down at my feet and slowly made my way back to my apartment. I winded my way back through the outskirts of town, back through main street, and all the way back through suburbia before reentering my apartment.

This was the only place I had lived once I moved out of my parent’s place, at first it seemed small, but she made it seem cozy. Now, it seemed way to large way too empty. Save for a table with a computer the apartment almost felt like no one lived here or someone was in the process of moving out. No pictures hung on the wall, in fact, the only personal effects were two faded photos in small frames by the computer.

They both were gifts. The one on the left was the last gift my grandfather got me, it was a picture of me and him, when I was only five or six years old. He had taken me out to fish, and we had caught a fourteen-inch bass. I didn’t remember it, and my grandfather always claimed that I had caught it on my own. Just looking at it compared to me who could barely hold it even with my grandfather helping. It really was a funny picture. On the back was simply written in black sharpie: “March 2nd, 2005, my grandson caught a large mouth bass!” Underneath that was written “14’ 1.407 lbs.” This sharpie was faded, weathered away by time. Underneath that, in less faded sharpie was written, “Happy eighteen birthday!”

My grandfather had passed away two months before his 97th birthday, and eight months before my eighteenth birthday. It took us a bit to go through his stuff, but in his old briefcase there was a letter addressed to me. Inside it was just that picture, no earth-shattering letter, nothing like that. My grandfather had probably gotten that letter ready, so he didn’t miss mailing it for my birthday and just forgot about it in his briefcase.

To him it probably didn’t seem like much, but to me, well to me it meant the world to me. Picking up the photo, I stared at him and me. It really was an old photo, but it still made me smile looking back at it now. I was way too young to remember it being taken, but it was one of my grandpas’ favorite stories to tell.

Smiling to myself, I put the picture down. Moving it back into its place, facing towards my bed and the window besides it. I didn’t look at the other picture, it brought back too many painful memories. Slipping back into my pajamas, I slip back into bed, this time more than ready for sleep…