The long road home

Again, I found myself standing outside the door of my suite at the Hotel Richmond. This time pounding on it for access to the room. No matter how many times I knocked upon that door my uncle John Carter would not answer to let me in. Somehow, I knew in my heart of hearts that he was no longer on the other side of the entrance way. That somehow he had transported himself back to the Red Planet and to the family that he loved more than life itself. Paradoxically, that realization made me happy. For though I would miss him terribly the thought of a relative finally finding peace and happiness after many years of struggle filled me with a serene calm. Fare you well, Uncle. Fare you well.

Resigned to the fact that my mission in Richmond was ended I turned and made my way to the lobby of the hotel. As I passed a trash receptacle I contemptuously threw the worthless plastic card the concierge gave me into it.

I made my way to the front desk and told Sergei that I had changed my mind and that I would not be spending the night and asked for the bill. Sergei, good man that he was, said there was no charge for thirty minutes stay and that he hoped I would visit the Hotel Richmond again. I promised him that I would look him up the next time I was in Richmond.

I exited the hotel and boarded the next available train back to New York. This time, however, my fellow passengers did not afford any distraction from the tedium of long-distance travel. It was as if I was seeing them with new eyes. They seemed as alien to me I seemed as alien to them as the surface of the moon. I felt old, out of touch and unsure of what I was doing.

None too soon did we settle into Penn Station. And I expedited the return to my dwelling with an outrageously priced taxi ride. The wee hours of the morning found me nestled in my favorite chair, a glass of  brandy in hand and wondering what I was going to do.
-ERB

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