It is like a cruel joke, that old saying so true and sad that youth is wasted on the young. It is a biting need for time travel, to right all of the wrongs, to kick earlier versions of myself into action, to say I love you to those who really needed to hear it back then. That last one is the most important.
I have learned that I walk a balance beam in which every move I make is studied. In a way, it becomes redemption for the lack of said traveling through time. It is never about me because of this but what is ahead. There is a peace that warms me knowing that today I will do something that will rise to the surface of the hearts of my children years from now after I am no longer here, and it will help them get through a task or a difficult day. What more could I ever want?
I recall at the beginning of February 1984, in one of my daily writings I made a statement like, "God! It's only February, we have no rights or views!" Back then, it was easy to do, wait for a sunny day, riding with the windows down and the music playing. In the folly of my youth, I did not know that in some ways that is nothing more than wishing the days of my life away. Back then, there were only a hundred million days ahead.
I am happy to report that 40 years (eww) later, I see the value of today. You heard me. February 6th, Vermont, 18 degrees, I find value in today. I may have a little boost from the fact that I just remodeled two rooms in my house. Plowing through the pain and defiant demobilization of RA and a life lived like I would be Superman forever, there is no doubt that it is much harder today. Pain is so big, it is the center of everything. But I will not lie down. I will not go quietly.
Suddenly everything reads like a Bob Segar song.
I know that. Of course, I know that! Don't you think I know that?
I think it is merely inevitable. Today it is all about return on investment. Squeezing every bit of everything out of every moment to make things better in the long run. From the sunrises of Mustang Island to the sands of Saudi Arabia, to the frozen slopes of Franklin County Maine, to the purple haze of the Northeast Oklahoma morning. From the barren scapes of Wyoming to the oil-stained parking lots of Jacksonville Florida. From the hot and rough asphalt of the shoulder of I-81 South in Pennsylvania to the cool grass of the Texarkana highway. Hopelessness in Gilmer, desperation in Tivoli, hope in Rockport, elation at Harbor Island, relief at Ruthie Lane.
These are places, moments, and states of mind and heart along my journey. They all have played an intrinsic part in shaping the person who woke up as me this morning. Reflection abounds. In the many things I have learned, I found there are many more things that I do not want in this world than things wanted. I think that is good.
Behind it all I can see it. The clock is spinning and I am holding on tight.
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