Stressed out, exhausted, and irritated,
scurrying back to my old, trusty Subaru Forester,
I abandon the library and heaps of unfinished work I deserted with it.
Only a handful of vehicles left in the parking lot.
12:30 AM, dead campus on what is now Thursday.
No one in sight.
Feeling a peculiar presence present,
Possibly something or someone lurking behind,
I begin to feel nervous.
With my hoodie up for the crisp, nippy night,
I glance back over my left shoulder.
I resume from my halt
And keep pushing forward.
My Air Max 95s begin to pick up the pace,
As I think to myself
‘Get it together fool!’
I peak back again.
A few paces back in the near distance,
I see a short, stalky older man.
Terrified. I sprint ahead
Only to witness the same man
Magically appear in front of me.
Only recognizable from countless the photos
Found in the many dusty photo albums
in the depths of the big blue plastic totes
Relaxing among storage in my parent’s garage.
In English, I guess I would just call him, grandpa.
The unforgettable face with the stern yet friendly expression
Was all too familiar.
Draped in a black long sleeved polo with brown knickers
Sitting atop a pair of dark brown loafers .
The man who I had only known through stories
Passed along by family.
The man who raised my father.
The man who I have cherished for so many years
without ever feeling
his voice or presence
was in front of me.
I blink once.
Not because I’m scared now,
But because we did not speak.
So many thoughts, so many questions
ballooning in my head.
How is Lola doing?
Is heaven what I think it is like?
Why do you eat your rice with coffee?
But most of all,
Are you proud of me?
Stuck in a daze
I brush off my thoughts,
shaking my head attempting to
rid myself of the mental cobwebs
still tangled around my mind.
I turn back to the library.
I’m wide awake now.
Until we meet again, Lolo.