>I started a new book tonight. Corey is out of town so I’m all by myself. Not to mention that I’m poor and my neighbors now apparently think I’m a charity case and gave me their leftover fried chicken. That, however, is not what is predominantly on my mind.
I started a new book tonight. 10 pages in, a small slip of paper falls out from the middle and I smile. I’ve had this book, unread and untouched, on my shelf for a long time. Perhaps, I considered reading it before and didn’t quite get around to it – that would explain the small piece of floating paper. All it had were phone numbers: Rae’s mother, Laura’s house number, and John Brand’s number, and someone that spells Marc with a “c.” And Dax. Dax’s number. Dax’s name and number were in the middle. Larger than the others, and messy, and my eyes went to it first. To his name. And I smile because I loved him.
I’m not sad anymore when I think of Dax; it’s been a long time. Instead, I am proud of him. Whenever I think of Dax, I am reminded of how he lived his life and the immense amount of happiness he brought to those around him. Everyone wanted to be around Dax. In highschool, he kept trying to break up with his girlfriend and couldn’t because he couldn’t stand to see her cry and would always take it back and I would laugh at him. Once, we drove around grapevine or duncanville or somewhere far out and sprawling for two hours trying to find a way to get to these radio towers in the distance. We harbored delusions that our adventure that evening was to climb them. Our dreams were dashed – we couldn’t find a road that would lead us there. Dax and I had many many many grand, delusional, and sometimes accomplished adventures together.
Dax and I gave each other jumps out of an airplane for our birthdays one year. At sky dive san marcos, you think you’re going to die before you ever get in the plane; I’m fairly certain it’s built with scrap metal and stolen engine parts. We dove one after the other and both hit the ground not speaking, but looking at each other with smiles, our faces colored with the rush of energy and life. That is how I remember Dax. Energy and life… bright red hair and cowboy boots, always smiling and laughing. And I am proud that he touched so many people and I am proud that he was my friend.
Tonight I have some tears reserved for him…just a few. Perhaps because I’m alone. Maybe because instead of coming across him by thoughts of my own devices, I discovered him on a small piece of unassuming and unexpected paper. And he took me by surprise and on once again, on another amazing journey. Thanks Dax. Love, me.