I am, in fact, right in the middle of that walk. I used to do this when I was in college to clear my head before I went to sleep. Tonight, I put on a coat I got back when I managed a rock band. Whenever I put it on it makes me feel close to those guys and remember all we accomplished, and all we didn’t. I also put on a heavy black scarf I bought in China on a day so cold my face felt like it was going to break off. I poured a glass of the rum my wife and I brought back from Jamaica. I’m wearing a watch my brother gave me, a hat my children gave me, the Celtic warrior’s ring my wife gave me on our wedding day and a ring I bought in Italy in a little shop by the River Arno.
I just had a conversation with a coworker and read an email from my mother.
I’ve been listening to the album that David Bowie released shortly before his death. It is a work of stunning originality. The videos for the songs Blackstar and Lazarus are works of art in their own right. The dead man sings to me in the dark.
To a casual observer I’m a man walking alone in the dark.
From my perspective, quite a little crowd has gathered to walk with me.
I am enjoying their company.