Part 2 of Dreams of the Boardwalk is now up at matthewkeville.com. Head on over for more of the story about teenage dreams, second chances, and the outpost on the City’s shining edge.
I surprised myself when I rolled out of bed. I expected to be exhausted and sore (chafed thighs, aching joints, dehydration headache, the works), but instead I felt better than I had in at least fifteen years. Also, I felt more rested and refreshed than I had since I was sixteen or so and got on the “too little sleep – not enough time to recover on weekends – make up the difference with caffeine” hamster wheel. For a moment I was worried that I’d overslept, but a glance at my alarm clock dispelled that fear. Besides, it didn’t feel like I’d overslept. No headache, no crick in the neck, nada.
I couldn’t figure it out, and I didn’t have time to try. The kid was out of the bathroom. I hurried down the hall before somebody else could take it.
It was after I was done with my necessaries, when I was looking in the mirror, that I surprised myself again:
I looked different. Not a lot…just enough that I couldn’t tell myself I was imagining things. My crow’s feet and smile lines didn’t seem quite as deep as the last time I’d looked in a mirror, but that could’ve been anything from wishful thinking to…I don’t know…facial swelling. My second chin, already much diminished by all the walking, was totally gone. But like I said, that had been shrinking for some time. Maybe walking more than twenty miles in the hot sun yesterday had been the coup de grace.
It was the hair that was inexplicable.