Sleep.

Some days pass and the scrapes on your leg burn to make you remember. The bachelor party and the tales that a bachelor party should be lost to. Alcohol and strippers. Broken windows and broken heads. Hangovers and fire alarms to wake buildings. Men thrown from rafts amid the rocks and cliffs and snow covered mountains. Three brothers. Old friends. New friends. And a man they nicknamed Gunner.

Sleep.

In my own bed. Because it is no longer a distant memory. Because I am no longer homeless. And maybe I am lucky. Or rather I know that I am lucky. Because I no longer need this the way I once did. And so I won’t try and say goodbye to the random beds and couches. Though I might say goodbye to a certain blackjack table. And the restaurant afterward while I was trying to eat bacon. Because there are some things you only need to do once.

Sleep.

And there are moments in life when you know that you’re in the exact place that you need to be. When autumn comes and for a moment the old memories are only old memories. And there isn’t the sense of regret that there once was. Implicit is the desire to believe that someday you might make sense of what happened. And the feeling is overwhelming.

Sleep.

Because there are some things they don’t teach you about growing up. Because someone might sing you a lullaby. Or maybe someone did and you didn’t hear them singing.

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