Homecoming

If indeed there was a God, he surely must think Himself a funny one. How otherwise might one explain the stark contrast between such a beautiful day and the storm within his mind. Seventy degrees, sunny, with patches of fluffy white clouds to decorate the sky. The breeze was occasional, and it was gentle against the skin when it blew. Spring was in its refreshing full bloom, allowing the trees to show off their lush green leaves, for the budding and shedding flowers to leave a rainbow along the sidewalks, and for children and teenagers to enjoy the day together while adults drove by with their windows wound all the way down.

Quincy Reagan walked through this all. The southside of Chicago. It was difficult for him to come to grips with how long it had been since he, himself, was one of the many children playing tag along the way. Simpler times. Before life truly started. Before the teenaged insecurities, the pressures of high school, the obligations of work, the struggles with love. Before it all went to shit. Simpler times. Everyone wants those back.

As he rounded the corner, a familiar corner, he was taken to another time. Sorrow began to add to the storm within his mind as he passed the spot he made his first move on his now ex-wife. Oh, what a time that was - a different time. Sixteen, a starting varsity defensive end, and he had hair. That much of the memory, at least, made him chuckle a bit to himself. He could remember how she chose to call him “54” for the number that was sat proudly sewn upon the left pectoral, on his letterman. As the way she would smile began to play back, he forced the memory out of his mind.

The sound of the mini-mart’s door bell brought him back to more recent times. To the sounding of a different kind of bell. He remembered when that bell would be rung to signify his victory. They’d lead to another type of victory, when he’d get those ‘goodnight’ phone calls from the two people that mattered most. He still got them in those two down weeks, but they weren’t the same. Too many things weren’t the same nowadays.

As he put a fresh bottle of water and a Bic lighter on the counter, he noticed the faint playing of ’Homecoming’ by Kanye West playing on the radio next to the cashier. Too relatable in too many ways.

The sun was brighter than he remembered when he exited the mini-mart. The children still played. The teenagers still pushed and insulted each other and then laughed it all off. Cars still drove by, their drivers taking in the welcomed change of climate. And the storm still went on.

He began to just walk. Or so he thought. When he noticed the sign - the worn down, 1980s style lettering - proudly identifying the location, ‘Jay’s Gym’, he questioned if perhaps he knew exactly where he was going all along. He put out his cigarette, and began to walk across the street.

To be continued