Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
He stared out at the sky before him. It was rather early, the sun barely peaking its rays from beyond the edge of the eastern horizon. He could feel the warmth of the coffee coming through his coffee cup and see his icy breath; the morning had that had greeted him had the January bite that it usually had.
As he thought about it, it had been a year since he had been discharged from the hospital. When he had told Faith that he was going on a vacation, she had asked him where he was going. He was quiet for a moment before he answered.
"Honestly, Faith, I don't know."
"Will you at least keep me informed of where you are?"
"Why do you want to know, Faith?"
She was quiet for a moment. "I'm worried, Bosco."
"Why are you worried?"
She was quiet for a moment, knowing what she really wanted to say, but really couldn't say. "I dunno; I just am."
He swallowed, thinking what to say next. "Yeah, I'll let you know." It was the least he could do.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.
He took one last drink from the warm coffee before he turned over his Mustang. This would be the last he would see of his neighbourhood in New York, not that it was anything special.
He could see the lights being turned on in the various windows; people were getting up, getting ready for the day, for their lives. There were a few people out and about: people coming back from the graveyard shift, people going to an early morning meeting or to meeting friends for coffee or breakfast. There were teenagers making their way to the subway, making sure that they were going to be on time for school: probably they had some activity that met early in the morning or maybe they were going to get extra help on an assignment from a teacher.
He needed to go, go before he would start to question why he was even doing what he was doing. He was going to allow circumstance dictate where he went and how far he went. Season would also dictate where he went and hopefully by time spring came he would be back home.
Armed with his laptop and digital camera, he could let people know where he was; show the sights and people he encountered.
He moved his car out of park and into gear and headed out, without a whimper. He would let his good-fortune dictate where his head landed, what he learned, what he experienced.
The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to me.
He drove to the corner of King and Arthur, the place where he had worked for over a decade, the place where he had honed his skills as a cop, the place where he and Faith had become friends and enemies, the place where he had trusted so many, the place where he had found out about the fate of Mikey.
The precinct house was now a shell of it's former self. He could see where the front desk once proudly stood, where the roll call room used to be, where he entered on a weekly basis. As he moved through out the building, he could see where the detectives once worked, where the captains and lieutenants once worked from, where they used to line up to get their radios, where they once got ready and joked and got a glimpse into each other's lives.
He could see Davis' tall form entering the locker room, as he talked about his latest girlfriend or some beef he had with his mom; Sully was sitting on the bench trying not laugh too much at Davis' complaints; Faith was getting ready, her blond hair swept up to the nape of her neck; Sasha trying to calm everybody, being the sensible one; Finney uttering a stupid joke; him doing his yoga stretches or fixing his gun belt so that it rested on his hips just right; Swersky coming in to announce that roll call was in a few minutes.
They were memories that belong to him and others, despite the smell of burnt wood, metal and cotton that still lingered seven months later. He could Christopher yelling at him to get his ass into roll call or he would get another CD in his jacket.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)
As he walked back out of the burnt out building, the building that held so many memories, both good and bad, he could hear in the distance the sound of Swersky giving out his usual quote at the end of each briefing "Eyes and ears out there."
He thought he could hear a telephone ringing at the front desk, Jelly's voice complaining about the lack of coffee available, Sully giving out his legendary grunt, Davis' laugh, or Cruz yelling at one of her many minions that worked for her and Manny calming her down (finally there had been someone who could work with her and make her bearable).
As he left the building for probably the final time ever, he left behind a multitude of memories that would not ever be replaced. It was time to start his journey, his journey of self-discovery. He planned on heading for Florida first, hoping to catch some sunshine and warmth and maybe eventually heading to Southern California and the famous beaches of Malibu.
The open road was going to be a journey of self-discovery and however hard it would be; it would hopefully be worth it. He hoped that the burdens of the past would be kicked aside and that he could move on. Only the road would tell him and only time would tell.