A Warm Wind

On leaving your hometown.

My friend — one of my best friends — watched me slam my trunk on a cold, wet Christmas Eve at around 2 p.m. It was the last door left to close. We embraced like brothers do. Someone may have said “be well” or “good luck” or “peace out.” But the doors were all closed now. And my friend — an amazing friend — closed the door to his own car and drove off into the winter abyss, back to his girlfriend…

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John Gorman

John Gorman

Essayist and storyteller on life, liberty and the battle for happiness. Several million served. Words at Human Parts, Forge and PS I Love You. IG: heygorman