He biked home from school, work, play. They all blended together.
He biked home to an empty house.
A long day of work that seemed to carry the weight of his brain with the cool fall breeze.
A long day of work that seemed to postpone his dreams, sustain a sense of pressure.
He sat in the empty house, the light of the ocean sun creeping through the door window.
He sat. Smiled. Sighed.
Not a sigh of relief, not a sigh of disappointment. A sigh of “this is it”.
“This is it, and this is everything.”
He was young. His friends were young.
He was in college. His friends were in college.
They were the sprouts of a new generation of ideas, mistakes, inventions, and setbacks.
They sprouted alongside each other in a community known as college.
“And they would bloom,” he thought.
He sat and looked around. Smiled. Sighed.
It was all beautiful, being young.
The motions of friends, strangers, students, and dreamers – creating their visions, living their dreams. Falling short but maintaining optimism.
The signs of a house of friends, clean but not clean enough to be considered a house of adults. A house of 20-something year olds, somewhat scattered, but ultimately content.
The tapestries sat in a colorful stature.
The ocean gleamed on the fabric as it did a few steps away.
Bob smiled as they did every second of every day.
Written in Isla Vista, California, U.S.A.