Break Time

(notes from a journal)

It wasn’t until the smoke break when I noticed how much life everyone had. We packed ourselves in the little courtyard in the back of the school lit by the flickering exit sign and the street light in the distance. The men smoke reds and lights while the women smoke Parliaments. The first hour of the meeting was so intense because we got absorbed in our problems hinged around death that I forgot these folks were full of personality and life. Apparently, nicotine brings that out in everyone. Nah…I can say for sure it was more of the weight of the topic being removed than it was the drag of a stick.

I stood half-listening to three guys making wild statements about the Yankees. I yes’d them as “AROD should move to first” came out of the eldest man’s mouth. I noticed a free-spirited woman talking to the group leader about her recent trip to Cabo. She reminded me of a girl I met on Wilshire Blvd standing on the corner waiting to go into Houston’s. I smiled – for no good reason really, it was just a reaction.

“Daiquiris by the pool” faded in with “Randy should be a closer” as I thought about how the artichoke dip at Houston’s wasn’t the best ever considering they call it their signature dish. I checked my watch. The butts were in the bucket and the coffee table was a mess. Break was over.