In the Late Afternoon

It’s just me and George in the late afternoon, he’s getting a little antsy waiting for his Momma to get home. He’s whimpering while looking out the window. Unfortunately, he doesn’t see any comfort in me. That’s because I’m the adult in the room, while my daughter is “Mommy”, the young and energetic one. All he gets from me is the occasional partner that tosses the tennis ball and puts him outside. You can’t blame me though, after all I’m a cat person; I find dogs to be too…needy.

At the moment I’m reminded of the fragility of this life. The energy and endless possibilities of oneself we all carried and left behind to pursue life. I often joke (much to the horror of my family) about my warranty expiring at age 59. But I mean seriously, my parents didn’t leave me with much of a genetic legacy. But now at age 58, the shits getting real. At times like this, I feel like God’s paying me back for all the times I am a jerk (notice I didn’t say was a jerk).

I suppose I’m paying some sort of penance for a life lived as a rebel without a clue. A life lived just below its potential. But what is potential any damn way? But something you look forward to in the future. After spending so much of my life looking off into the horizon. It’s kinda nice to appreciate what I have here and now. God only knows how much longer I got (I know, sorry). But being in this moment seems to suit me. It leaves me appreciating the little things that life gives. It opens my mind to deeper focus and a greater freedom to just be.  


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fail-Safe

Image
Through the paper-thin walls of this old house, I can hear my neighbors getting ready for another day. Laying here remember when I used to do that, working at night so I could take care of the kids, while my wife went to work. Yesterday sorta marked a tipping point for me I suppose. I finally got my consultation with the gastroenterologist. So we are working the set-up some tests my primary care physician has been wanting for me to have for months. While I would love nothing more than to tell my PCP, “I told you so”. But I suppose knowing is better than not knowing. Although I do find some comfort in ignorant bliss.  I get the impression some people feel I am an optimist. But I like to think of myself more as a realist. What some may mistake as optimism is actually nothing more than analytics. Where I breakdown a given situation and create a solution. That may sound cold and frankly less romantic. But you must understand, after living so long in a void of no emotion (du...
Read more

Child in the Sixties & Seventies

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned being a child in the sixties. Well just today a dear friend of mine reminded me about some of the things we had to do back then (1972) compared to today's average 10 year old (2012).  First you have to understand we had no cell or smartphones, internet, personal computers, or digital anything. No music downloads, CD's, DVD's, Dish Network, cable TV, or VCR's. By '72 I think we finally got an ABC station giving us 4 TV stations to pick up by the rabbit ears (ask your Grandparents). Also, if I remember right, we got our first color TV around '72, a 19" portable Sears Brand TV.  But before you sit there and think, "God, what did you do all day?" In the afternoons and summers we played...outside. I know it sounds crazy, but our parents your Grand & Great-grand parents let us outside. We all had bikes and after breakfast we hit the door not to be seen till dinner time. I was blessed to have grown up on a dead ...
Read more

A Little Poem

Morning Rain. Watched it begin to rain this morning Light, then heavy and strong And from my limited view I thought How perfect I lite my pipe and drank my joe Watching the smoke rings As they hit the top of the pouch and thought How perfect Looking out I thought of nothing Simple watching the raindrops Come over the edge and hit the steps, thinking How perfect Even from one's limited view, one can see perfection It may be a bird on a branch, or a child at play Still, it is perfection In such an imperfect world How perfect FD Thornton, 2012
Read more