2019. Spring. Nighttime, mind racing, when...

I feel this night, just as if I could hold it in my hands. Something about the feeling suggests to me I should take note. Something pivotal is soon.

I was driving across town at 9:30 PM when the expansive country lanes suddenly narrowed. They lined the freeway with cement wall barriers decorated with glowing red and white reflectors on both sides. It restricted me to the right and left and my driving had to be calculated.

My mind jolted awake and alert. I noticed the smell and taste of the night air. With it came a rush of memories of when I could feel the night as much as now.

There, driving within the barriers, eyes glued to the road before me, I recalled the night that I first experienced mania.

1996. Summer. Placed directly into that moment, I recalled stepping out of my apartment and into the evening. It was also about 10:00 PM. Everything around intensified. I could feel the hum of the streetlights in my ears. The glow of those lights was bright and their halos lined the streets as if it was some divine path toward Utopia. The sound of the city was like a live machine, churning and throbbing within my pulse. Everything seemed remarkable, possible, amazing, so very sensual. It thrilled me to be alive. Thoughts racing, ideas moving wildly from one exciting thought to another, I walked down that street and into a wild delirium.

Route 70 opened to three lanes and, with the walls now removed, my thoughts drew to my next memory.

1996. Fall. Grad school was a bore, and I desired something more reckless, something more fulfilling, something unknown, uninhibited.

I was cycling, going from a deep, brutal depression to blissful mania within hours from each other, all happening so quickly that I knew I needed to allow myself to feel and experience the ride. It was that night, after a day of painting and choreographing, that I decided I would leave school for a short time and take a trip to get away from the place where I resided and allow myself to be free. I wanted to move, to create, to live all while moving up and down as if on a Ferris wheel at some crazy carnival.

I bought my Greyhound bus ticket, rode to North Carolina through the night, and, on arrival at my destination, I fell into the arms of my lover who held me as I cried and laughed and looked at him with wild eyes.

As I took the exit to 71 North and as I drew closer to Columbus, my memories became more frequent.

1997. Winter. Morning. Hung over, fearing suicide.

1998. Spring. About to defend my thesis. Frightened. Future looming.

1998. Fall. Pensive. Soulful. Connected…. on and on, each quick memory moving through me, each time announcing that this life is rich, tumultuous, noteworthy.

I was merging and had to yield. The car on the left rushed passed forcing me off the road a bit and I imagined running off the road, my life quickly ending. My God, these thoughts, these memories!

Moving away

Julia’s birth

Getting married

Dog passing

Renovating house

Switching jobs

Norma’s death

New pet

Promotion

Randy’s overdose

Mom’s surgery

John passing

New job

My God, My God, My God! This life!

In this very moment, someone is giving birth, someone is breathing their last breath.

This life, this life, This Life! .....

And then, before I could capture what exactly it was that my mind was telling me, I arrived at my house.

I was home.

Tonight’s circuitous journey carried a lifetime of memories when I could feel the night, just as if I could hold it in my hands. These times suggest I should take note. And so I did.

The next pivotal moment was about to come soon after this night marked as

2019. Spring. Nighttime, mind racing, when...