Full Circle

“While we navigate by the sheer will

of heart and mind

and Reality’s Divine Grace,

we are all blown by gales of fortune

as we sail upon waves of fate.”

I couldn’t begin to spell out

the myriad twists and turns of happenstance

that brought me to rock-bottom that Christmas Eve,

but there I was anyways.

I sat at the counter

of the all-night diner

trying to remember

how things had come to this,

as my mind was rather unwell at the time.

All I could see

was closed doors and angry faces

in my memory,

phone calls unanswered and texts unrequited.

In my mind,

I had been reaching out for help

in all directions

for as far back as I could remember,

but I knew that it often came across

accented with desperation and angst.

My meds had run out weeks ago

and my wallet and cell phone had gone missing within the week.

I couldn’t remember where I’d parked the car last,

but I knew the tank was almost empty.

I flipped through the seemingly random and chaotic markings

in my notebook

searching for phone numbers I could call,

if I could manage the extra 50 cents

at this cold hour.

All that night,

I would slide the coffee mug

towards the edge of the counter

in front of me

when it got empty

without daring a word of request;

and the beautiful young waitress would stop by

to fill it again

at her convenience.

I felt

with some certainty

like she had tried to talk with me

the last time I was in the place,

but the interaction had been awkward at best,

so I held my tongue that night

as the hours passed.

I didn’t know her shift was ending

until I saw her loading her purse onto her shoulder

and saying some type of goodbye or another

to someone on the cook’s line.

She turned to me and asked

if I needed any more coffee before she left.

I looked up from my notebook

and tried to tell her,

“I’ll be alright.”

But my eyes likely gave me away

as my voice stuttered and shook some at the beginning

and faded off sharply at the end.

I was drowning in plain sight

and was exhausted

and alone.

Her eyes softened

and her face beamed a compassionate smile

as she dug her hand into her purse,

pulled out three $20 bills

and set them down in front of me.

“Honey,"

she said sweetly.

"I’ve seen some rough Christmases in my life,

and I know the feeling…

Get yourself a motel room

and go be warm for the holiday.”

With all the control I had in me,

I kept from sobbing with joy

as I thanked her simply

and kindly.

She smiled

and strolled out from behind the counter,

out through the front door

and into the night.

I made my way three blocks down

to the Town House Motel

and checked in for the evening.

I soaked in the bath

and continued to sift through the clues of my notebook

to rekindle

whatever hopeful plans I was working on

to get back on my feet.

I called my ex from the motel phone beside the bed

and left her a simple “Merry Christmas” message

and then slept until just before ‘check-out’ time.

Over the next few months,

I rather miraculously managed

to get my medication regimen back on track

and get settled into a new apartment

on the South side of town.

My old job took me back onto full-time status

and I began saving up for a used car,

as my old one never did turn back up.

One day in late July,

I walked about a mile and a half from my apartment

to go participate in a silent auction for charity

at one of the local dining establishments

that was furnished with a large banquet hall.

Three drinks later

and I finally remembered

where I had seen the cocktail waitress before.

Her hair color had changed

but that smile of hers had,

all night,

been enveloped with familiarity in my mind.

I strolled over with a hundred-dollar bill

between my fingers and thumb,

tucked into my jacket pocket,

and simply said to her,

“You helped me in my darkest hour.

Thank you.”

and set the bill on her tray.

After just a second or two of astonishment,

her eyes lit up as she suddenly remembered me.

She hugged me warmly and exclaimed,

“Oh my god, thank you!!!

I’ve been behind on rent this month and this helps so much!!!”

We exchanged a few words

on how we’d been doing

but she was working the event

and folks were thirsty.

I promised to drop in

from time to time,

wished her well

and took a long stroll home

on the cracked sidewalks of that small town

in the warm humidity of a mid-summer night.

My time on the low side of the road was over,

it seemed,

and the tiny kindnesses that had saved my life

were beginning to come full circle.