Cafe Hitch-hike


It felt just about the same.

It hit me hard to be the informant for my niece’s death certificate. That made it feel real as opposed to something that could be raked aside and disposed of. That, and I initiated the process to release her remains from the medical examiner (who is located on Michigan Avenue in Orlando) so they can go to a place to be cremated and somehow sent back to Michigan. Her parents will need to check the info for accuracy and then sign away for it to really happen, and I am the scribe and messenger.

Then... Rafael. Thanks to someone with too much time on their hands and whatever the fuck is going through their head, he found this-here page. I don’t even want to go into details for all of that. I thought of contacting Rafa but changed my mind because I didn’t want to bring bad news, tears, and the usual lovely events that drift into and out of my life.

At least I can say more than a little. I was already heading to Miami to see a show the day we got back into contact, and we agreed to meet. I didn’t expect this, but I felt warmth return to my veins when I saw the Miami skyline. I was glad to be back on Lincoln Road, to see Spanish people, the mix of Latin rhythm and and... of course we were nervous to see each other. I felt some anxiety, but the feeling I felt was relief.

It was like when Remy and I had a pause, and a bunch of us hung out one night at a gas station in the Everglades and next to the Indian reservation... everyone was having a great time, and I was just so glad to see my friend again. I missed him, and he was so glad to see me. People could see and feel it, and smiled quietly (I love those quiet, knowing smiles). I was just so glad to see my friend.

It felt just about the same with Rafa.

downwind | upstream