"Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom."
As if we didn’t learn anything from last week…
The calendar does what calendars do and has flipped to the next month. Now is the time for overindulgence. As if you gluttons couldn’t get enough, you begged me for more short stories. Yes, last week was technically fiction. This week is also technically fiction but is based on a real story. I have changed the names of some characters for anonymity.
Good Morning,
Thanksgiving Day had arrived, and with it, the warmth and aroma of home-cooked meals, the laughter of reunited families, and the embrace of tradition. Cudy’s heart should have swelled with anticipation, but instead, it was a mixture of apprehension and melancholy that gripped him. He had always been the bachelor, the one who navigated family gatherings alone. His extended family awaited his arrival with cheerful eagerness, ready to bombard him with those same old questions. “Are you dating anyone, Cudy?” “When will we hear wedding bells?” “Isn’t it time to settle down?” A classic conundrum for the single in their late 20’s or 30’s.
Cudy Ramacho had always been the wanderer within his family. The lone traveler in a sea of couples and companions. As he drove down the familiar winding road that led to his family’s annual Thanksgiving gathering in the charming small town of Gallatin, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of unspoken expectations pressing down on him. At the tender age of 27, Rudy was well aware that he stood at the crossroads of his life, a point where the questions about his future were as numerous as the autumn leaves that adorned the roadside trees.
Cudy had been caught in the whirlwind of this relentless curiosity before and had never managed to offer any satisfying answers. These questions felt like the background score to his family gatherings, a tune that never quite harmonized with his own desires, a reminder that he was somehow incomplete, an outlier in the gallery of happiness. Would this be yet another year where he said, “I’m thankful for you all” but secretly he was also thankful for the moment it was time to go back to the peace of his own apartment?
As he parked his car by the curb, the warm glow of his family’s house beckoned to him, a beacon of togetherness and tradition. Cudy took a deep breath, steadying himself, and made his way inside. His heart pounded with trepidation as he crossed the threshold into a scene of festive chaos. The sound of joyful chatter and the savory scent of a well-roasted turkey permeated the air. Familiar faces, both welcoming and inquisitive, greeted him.
His aunts, Lynnaire and Gaylon, stood beside their spouses, glowing with joy. (Technically Gaylon is Cudy’s mom’s half sister so his half aunt but as his mom always says, “We round up in this family” so they don’t diminish her value as a family member.) His little brother, Moey, was busy doting on his two children, who had grown since Cudy last saw them. His mother, a paragon of hospitality, was bustling about the kitchen, ensuring that the feast would be perfect, and his father, wise and gentle, sat by the fireplace, hands resting on his stomach, beaming at the reunion of his family.
Amidst the bustling family members and joyous reunions, Cudy’s solitude became more pronounced. He exchanged pleasantries and smiles, but the relentless questioning began as he greeted each relative. The words felt like arrows, piercing his heart and deflating his spirit. The expectations of society, the idea that happiness hinged on finding a partner, loomed over him like a storm cloud. Was his own happiness only a part of the whole that is joy? Must he find the rest in another?
Cudy found himself edging towards the outskirts of the familial throng. Though they never intentionally made him feel this way, he felt like a singular note in a harmonious chorus. The unceasing inquiries had become a chorus of their own, and he needed a moment of solitude to compose his own inner melody.
With a polite excuse, Cudy made his way towards the door and stepped out into the crisp, late autumn air. The quiet outside was a stark contrast to the lively chaos inside, a welcome respite from the cacophony of expectations. The gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the surrounding trees and pushed a few strands of Cuddy’s perfect hair in his face. The leaves had begun their transformation into a fiery tapestry of reds and oranges. The colors reminded him of his mother’s bright red hair and, if only for a moment, caused him to reconsider his stepping out. He resolved that a breath of fresh air was needed and the beauty of nature was a reminder that there is a wonderful order to the world. It was a scene Rudy had admired many times before, but today, it took on new significance.
His path led him down the familiar streets of Gallatin, past quaint houses and cozy storefronts, each one adorned with Thanksgiving decorations and the unmistakable air of celebration. As he walked, the tangled thoughts and emotions that had engulfed him in the house began to unravel, revealing the deeper layers of his inner turmoil. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, that his life was incomplete.
The small town park, nestled amidst the town’s homey charm, appeared like a forgotten relic of his childhood. As he entered, he was struck by a wave of nostalgia. The park, once bustling with children and their laughter, had become a quiet sanctuary, overgrown with tall grass and fallen leaves. It seemed a mirror of his own journey—a place that had seen the passage of time, bearing the marks of neglect.
Cudy wandered deeper into the park, the uneven path crunching beneath the footsteps of his Thursday boots. The stillness was palpable, and he felt a connection with the solitude of the place. As he walked, his thoughts circled back to the incessant questions that had haunted him inside the house. Were they right? Was he indeed missing something essential in life, something that his aunts, his brother, and even his parents had found?
He wandered through the disused swings and the forgotten picnic tables, a single figure in a world designed for pairs. In that moment, he was more aware than ever of the divide between himself and the expectations of the world, between the solitude he had chosen and the loneliness he had begun to fear.
It was in this quiet park that Cudy’s inner journey truly began, for he was about to encounter someone who would change the course of his life, just as the stray autumn leaves were carried by the wind, finding new destinations…
As Cudy wandered deeper into the park, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness, he stumbled upon a scene that seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of solitude. There, beneath a tree with gnarled branches and a coat of fallen leaves, sat a middle aged man, feeding the pigeons with an air of serene contentment.
Cudy paused, struck by the sight of the man, who appeared as much a part of the park as the weathered tree itself. The pigeons flocked around him, cooing softly, as if drawn to his colorful aura. Cudy couldn’t help but be captivated by the scene. It was as though time had paused, allowing him to catch a glimpse of a simpler, unhurried existence.
Without hesitation, Cudy approached the elderly man, his curiosity piqued. The man, with deeply etched lines of wisdom in his face, looked up and met Cudy’s eyes with a kind, knowing gaze. There was something about him that was instantly comforting, as though he held the answers to the questions that had been troubling Cudy for so long.
“Hello there,” the man said, his voice carrying the softness of experience. “Would you like to join me?”
Cudy nodded, sheepishly, and took a seat beside the man. “You can sit on my lap if you want to.” The man said with a shy smile. “No thanks,” said Cudy, “I’m fine here.” The pigeons fluttered around them, their presence creating a serene ambiance. Without the need for introductions, the two sat in silence, Cudy feeling strangely at ease, yet curious.
After a moment, the man introduced himself as Ruel and began to speak. He talked about the simple joys of life, about the beauty of the park in its neglected state, and about the pigeons, who had become his companions over the years. He shared stories of his own life, speaking of love, loss, and the pursuit of happiness, all with a wisdom that was both profound and comforting.
Listening to Ruel, Cudy was captivated. It was as though the man held a mirror to his soul, reflecting the doubts and uncertainties that had been gnawing at him for so long. Ruel’s words resonated with him, touching him at the very core of his inner turmoil; the relentless quest for something more, something that had eluded him, like a shadow on the horizon.
Cudy realized that he had embarked on an unexpected journey, one that went beyond the boundaries of the park and the solitude of his own thoughts. It was a journey of self-discovery, a call to adventure that had found him in the most unexpected place; a quiet park, beneath the shade of a tree, in the company of an odd, yet alluring, man who seemed to have unlocked the secrets of contentment.
Ruel’s stories were interwoven with moments of personal introspection, and he gently encouraged Cudy to reflect on his own life. With Ruel’s comforting hand resting on the small of his back, Cudy shared his feelings of being incomplete, of the relentless pressure to conform to societal expectations, and the sense that he was missing something essential. Ruel listened with a knowing smile and then responded, “Sometimes, young friend, the greatest adventure is the one within ourselves. We seek answers outside, but the journey inward can be the most transformative.”
Having spent several hours alone in the park with Ruel, Cudy felt a profound shift within himself. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a newfound clarity and acceptance. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, golden hue across the park. As they wrapped up their conversation, Cudy thanked Ruel for the wisdom and guidance he had shared.
With a gentle smile, Ruel said, “Remember, my young friend, the answers you seek are not out there in the world but within yourself. Embrace your journey with an open heart, and you’ll discover that you already possess what you’ve been searching for.”
“Thanks Ruel, but you’ve already said that, are you alright?”, Cudy said with slight concern.
“I’m alright, my young friend” Ruel responded, “but the bigger question is are you alright? Before you go looking to the outside world for that answer, remember, the answer may actually be within.”
“K. Byeeeee” Cudy said nervously. He didn’t want to be around as Ruel began to slip into madness.
Cudy left the park with a sense of tranquility that he had never experienced before. The relentless pressure of societal expectations had lost its grip on him, and the persistent questions about his love life no longer weighed him down. As he made his way back to the family gathering, he realized that he no longer needed to find validation in external relationships. He decided, at that moment, he would finally buy a corgi. His worth was not measured by his relationship status; it was found in the love and connections he already had.
Upon reentering the house, Cudy was met with a warm embrace from his mother, who sensed a change in him. His aunts and uncles continued to ask about his life, but their questions no longer felt like accusations. Cudy answered them with a newfound sense of contentment, sharing the lessons he had learned from Ruel and the peace he had found in the solitude of the park.
As the evening unfolded, Cudy engaged in deeper conversations with his family members. He realized that these connections were more meaningful than he had previously acknowledged. They were a source of love and support, a web of relationships that had been there all along, waiting for him to appreciate them.
Thanksgiving dinner concluded as Cudy fell asleep on the couch with football playing quietly on the television. His journey had led him to a place of inner peace and self-assuredness, and he felt like a hero in his own story. “I’m a special boy.” Cudy wrote in his journal later that night as he sat restless due to the afternoon nap. “I’m silly, but I am enough.” He underlined that statement with a pen of a different color.
Cudy then sent a few ill-advised “You up?” texts to former high school crushes, curious if they were in town. Suddenly, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, Cudy remembered all he had learned in the park. He didn’t need his hometown girls to make him feel accepted. “Sry… my lil bro took my phone lol” he texted to all the girls he had previously inquired about.
Let’s close by returning once more to Cudy’s journal where we find something a little more profound than his previous entry:
“I’m so far from perfect
She still loved me when I so far from deserved it
If I’m so brave why did looking her in the eye take every ounce of my courage?
Tripping on tryptophan I lay on the carpet and see a jungle on the floor
All of us, all of us are a galaxy of tiny little storms
The good and evil in me wage a bloody civil war
The missiles whistle through me then the rebel pistols roar
I shiver and the final slivers of my confidence retreat within my core
There was a time I couldn’t imagine I’d ever be happy like before
Before, before
We were sitting in a field in Gallatin Miracle Park off Champion and 4th
And I’d never felt less alone
Just a block from the home I’ve outgrown
Five feet and forty years to the right from where dad proposed
An inch above this casserole of stones, grass and mud, rusty needles, lost guitar picks, Indian tombs, and dinosaur bones
Everything happened all at once
And the world was spinning like a hubcap, and not because of any drugs
We hugged and laid there in each others’ arms all night
Even when the sprinklers cried on us we didn’t mind
We had the rest of our lives to be dry
So we stayed until the edges of the sky turned light
I would have stay until our hair turned white
The mosquitoes arrived to feast on time
Got drunk at our expense, we didn’t mind
We let them bite, we kept on kissing and obliged
Say “bottoms up, you’ve only got til Tuesday so enjoy the ride!”
And I couldn’t imagine that I would ever be unhappy again
And I whispered in your ear that this moment is already a poem
That I just figured out my first tattoo was going to be of bug bites
Decided I’d commemorate their bloody drink by printing three circles on my ankle, perfect and pink in permanent ink
The beautiful wounds that would keep me, you and this moment forever linked
To remind me when I fail myself, when I fail everyone around me
When I misfire and come tearing through your walls
When the cocktail of humiliation and pain poisons my veins
And this carnival of carnage, this mansion of garbage, this parking lot of carcasses, this heartbreak party drains the spirit that remains
That I have been a part of something worthwhile
To remind me of the pleasure your pulse
The measure of your breath
The rise and fall of our fortunes and our chests
These spectacular triumphs and flops
That even if that moment meant nothing to the universe, it was the closest thing to happy I’ve got
I’m so far from perfect
But I know for sure I’m worth it
Even that day you looked at me the way I looked at my pet leopard gecko
On the day I learned he couldn’t climb walls, a fact I didn’t know
I learned to love him for what he was not
I named him Western Sizzlin’
After my favorite restaurant
Western Sizzlin’ is a restaurant where I would get chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs. Let me tell you, there is no more inspiring buffet item than a lump of reconstituted chicken parts that styles itself as a Stegosaurus. So Sizzlin’ was a fitting name for a Leopard Gecko, the earthbound gecko, that chooses to live not as some wannabe green reptilian Spiderman, but as a ferocious jungle cat. A truly aspirational beast following in the glorious tradition of the Whale Shark, the Cat Fish, the Egg Plant, and of course the Horseshoe Crab: A crab that dreams of being… a horses shoe
I fed Sizzlin’ live crickets that lived in a terrarium that sat in the bathtub so, in case they somehow managed to escape the cage, they would struggle fruitlessly against the impossibly high porcelain prison walls. I’d shake the crickets up in a paper bag full of protein powder like some messed up death maraca before he crunched in. A wing or spare leg hanging out his lower jaw like salad greens. I couldn’t figure out why I was feeding my pets to each other. I had this little secret: sometimes I would slip into the bathroom and carelessly -whoops- bump the terrarium and slide the roof a crack to grant crickets that could climb that granite slab a fighting chance. If they made it over they were honorary geckos. A couple earned their freedom and escaped into the wall paneling where played their tiny violins as long as they had music in their legs.
Today, in the park with Ruel, I escaped the terrarium in my heart and climbed society’s porcelain walls.
Listen to my song.”
