Every month I have a visitor that comes here and reads the same few posts over and over.
I Had a DreamI don't know whether this person is male or female, although I tend to think that it is a woman. To the best of my knowledge they have never commented here or communicated in any way with me. Being a curious person I wonder what their story is and why they keep coming back.
The Story of Two Souls
Do they identify with the writing? Does it make them smile or is it painful? I can't help but wonder.
Dateline August 1992. Location Ojai, California. I am working as a counselor at a family camp. One warm summer night I spend hours talking to a couple of single parents about life. They are 35 and 39 and I am 23. Over a bottle of wine we share stories and thoughts about life.
Some of the conversation goes over my head. I have never been married and haven't any interest in doing so any time soon. They compare notes about their marriages and talk about what they should have done. Both mention men that they wish they would have married and laugh about ones that they intentionally did not.
To me it is mildly amusing. Youthful arrogance makes me shake my head and wonder how they could have been so foolish. At this point in time I am naive enough to believe that if you marry the right person life is hunky dory and you see nothing but blue skies.
Almost sixteen years later I am a different person. Three full tables of friends and family from my own wedding are gone. Thirty lives are over. Without exaggeration I can say that I have been to at least a dozen funerals. They included friends, my contemporaries, as well as the parents of friends.
I watched as a half dozen or so marriages ended. A few years after the divorce one of the ex-husbands committed suicide. I sat with his ex-wife on several occasions and listened as she wondered if she was the reason that he killed himself.
Another friend told me how her brother and his ex-wife never really stopped loving each other, they just couldn't figure out how to make it work. She said that she had dreams that one day they would find their way back to each other.
Yesterday I listened to another friend tell me how unfair it was that she couldn't get pregnant and how she was beginning to resent her husband.
I look back on the time that has passed and can't believe how much has happened. In short it hasn't been any more than life. The stories and things that have happened are not unusual. I tend to think that I have been exposed to more death than many. I know six people that have had brain tumors and died from complications resulting from them. I wish that I didn't. Sometimes I feel like the Angel of Death.
Happy thoughts, aren't they.
I have been trying to play ball about four times a week. It used to be easy. I never thought twice about playing, but lately it has been tougher. I noticed that towards the end of the week my knees had begun to ache and that walking stairs was painful.
And of course the ache in my knees was matched by a sore back and sore feet. So I finally broke down and purchased a new pair of high tops. I haven't had a chance to play in them yet but I can feel the difference already. The support in my old shoes is shot, but not this pair.
Already I know that they are going to give me a little something extra and I need it. My game is predicated upon being able to outwork and out muscle the other guys. I am not as talented as a bunch of them, but with a little effort I can compensate. The hard part is that the pounding is catching up to me.
I am not ready to give in. Defeat is not something that I accept. So we'll start with the shoes and see if that helps. In addition I have started a new lifting program. We'll see if I can't put some more muscle on and make these little boys pay.
Time moves too quickly. I am not ready to admit that age is catching up to me. Can't I get a few more years. I know, I just know that the answer is out there. A couple of changes, a few adjustments and I can extend my playing career.
In the meantime I think that I am going to investigate getting back into swimming. I swam competitively throughout high school and part of college.
Oops, my daughter is calling. If you'll excuse me I am off to beat up the monster in the closet.
I know it's really fun, taking on those closet monsters in the kids' rooms, but you might find that a simple nightlight keeps them away, avoids the fight entirely, and thus leaves more time for blogging.
Of course, you do have to come up with other reasons to give the kids that extra tuck-in later.
The nightlight used to work, but it turned into a distraction.
Post a Comment