jamie doom

Note: This was written exactly three years ago this month. If I sounded overly optimistic, that’s because I was. But looking back, overly optimistic seems just about right. I’m not really one to be self-conscience about feeling happy. This is written to my best friend, Mike Rhoades. Enjoy.

My Brutha,

How we doin’? Me? I’m feeling pretty good. Why? Last night, your friend and fellow genius took life by the horns and didn’t let go until he fell asleep with a beautiful Kevin-Spacey-kind-of- smile. Want to hear about my complete night? Here goes.

Well, last night was a Wednesday night, which means prayer meeting at church, which means a big block of my night spoken for, thus kind of hurting my chances at the perfect evening. Well, that’s what you would think. Right?

But, my friend, things are not always what you or I would think. And that’s the down right amazing, wonderful part about life that has me giddy this cool breezy morning while I look out my open front door at work at trees that sway, but not all together or all in the same direction. The sun is hitting the leaves, too, this morning, but not all of them. I can’t figure out which are more beautiful, those that the sun has remembered or those that have been forgotten. No, its neither…it’s seeing it all together, lit and unlit, on this fine September morning. God is alive surely.

But I digress. For this morning is not the subject of this clandestine letter (I’m writing you from work), but last night is what I want to tell you about.