Isle of Hope.

Lupo and I went on a tour of downtown Savannah, so to speak. Neither he nor I were interested in stopping anywhere, per se, because we've done it before. I've seen the FORREST GUMP bench already. The crowd of tourists outside The Lady and Sons restaurant, making it look like an attraction on par with The Hard Rock Cafe, dissuaded me from wanting to eat there. (Lupo doesn't eat outside a set menu anyway, so there was no argument when I suggested we avoid the Paula Deen fans.)

We rode in his car, listened to some mix CDs on the stereo and mocked the tourists, of whom I am no better but mock anyway. I realized River Street is a bumpy, sad road of unfortunate people in bad outfits now I've traveled down it more than twice.

All the while, I realized again that, for me, Lupo is a role model. He has his house, his relationship, his goals within reach, his organization in check. His life isn't perfect, by any means, but I see where he is from where I am. And he seems further along the road from me. He's managed to do something, something that required work that I haven't been able to do in my own life, and I want my goals to come as his have and will. He has method. He has drive. I do not.

When all of life is done for me, I hope that I'm on a better path than I have been. I hope it's not all insurmountable goals. I need to know the steps, and Lupo makes me feel like I can learn the steps.

Lupo provides me with hope, a sense that we came from the same defeatist mindset that he's been able to escape from. I'm still a self-defeatist.

We sat on the beach at Tybee Island. I talked about the men in my life - the choices I'm making that probably aren't leading anywhere or fulfilling me. I talked about the job that I've hated since I arrived there, the desk job I was supposed to work three weeks that I ended up working five years - a detail that now feels more like a punchline than a comfort.

At the end of the tour, Lupo drove me to a place called the Isle of Hope. The seaside houses there were beautiful and big. The neighborhood seemed friendly, and it was filled with private docks. Lupo said that people probably didn't live there year round, that there were probably just well-kept vacation homes. Still, some of the colonial manses with white picket fences looked cozy and well-kept, the sort of places where you wish you could live while also being a place that's better appreciated if you're only there for a season.