And what was wrong with that? Going out late at night, I mean. You were younger, maybe 18 or 20 or 22, and you loved the night life and so did your friends. Everything you might want and dream about could be out there in the night.
Her, for example.
And so out the door you would go, in pursuit of a promise, a prayer yet unanswered. Or maybe you were just looking for a little buzz and a few laughs. Maybe for those hours you were out there in that bar with the music going and the Saturday night crowd milling around, you would be glad just to forget about the rest of your life, or at least get it in better perspective.
School, for example.
And while you were out there, I was rooting for you to discover something in that long, dark night. True, we were both wondering where you were and with whom, and we were worried about when you would get home and what might happen on the “F” train as you rode along at 6 in the morning.
But I understood why you did it, why you ventured forth into the unknown, because I once did it, too, a long time ago, and even though I often found nothing at all, I’m still glad I did it, because that’s how I met Elvira.