When I was a kid, it seemed as if time passed with the urgency of snails moving up a hill. Now, at 52, I’m trying to hold onto every second, every minute, every grain of sand that passes through the waist of the hour-glass that is my life. It’s normal I suppose. That desire to not get old when you’re obviously getting older. That youthful desire to not be young when you are perhaps, dare I say it, way too young. I, as many others on this journey, have learned that the grass ain’t always greener, and in fact sometimes don’t turn out to be grass at all. Nevertheless, the battle must be fought and folks have to experience things for themselves, despite being told, “Hey, maybe you should do this way,” or “If I were you, I would do this, that and the other,” by folks who have gone down that particular road.
Hey, I tell my kids all the time about what they should and shouldn’t be doing, only to realize as the words come out of my mouth that they are falling on deaf ears. I impart whatever perceived gems of wisdom onto them knowing that they have to do the things that they want to do for themselves. Experience it, and lay blame, give thanks, or accept responsibility as they see fit. I mean, hey, I did it my way and had my own experiences by not listening to that older generation of mine, even though the way I grew up is much different from they way that my kids have. I mean, they have never felt that hunger from not having food in the fridge or dreading and loving summer vacation because, going to school meant that you would at least have breakfast and lunch, whereas in the summer, especially if you weren’t in some camp program, you may not eat at all, especially if the Food Stamps ran out. But, hey this ain’t no Pity Party, I’m just saying that the way I grew up made me feel more equipped to fight off the wolves, become a wolf, despise the wolves, learn from the wolves, etc., etc., at least compared to the way that my kids have grown up. Shit, I still see my kids as little diaper wearing humans crawling around the floor and reaching out their arms for me to pick them up. However, at 21, and 13, I know that they are far from that, and even when they need my help, they never admit it, until it’s too late or I can no longer save them from their mistakes.
Although my home life and situations were different at their age, meaning, when I was 13, I was working and putting food on the table, and by the time I was 21, I had served 3 years in the Army, I still realize that there were a few things I could have done as suggested by my parents, or older family members that would have made things easier. Ahh, but experiences are so memorable aren’t they, and I be damn if I didn’t have a good and bad time experiencing them. Memories that will always be with me, and some that I have denied so much that they are less than lint floating through the air, only occasionally climbing into the nasal cavity of my mind to cause irritation, depression or stress.
So with Christmas and the New Year, literally right around the corner, I muse about the passing of another year, along side things I’ve learned and still have very little knowledge about, and the ebbing of time that I will never recoup or capture, and my life of course, as I experience things on this big blue marble. along with the rest of you It’s all good mi gente, I’m enjoying the ride and hope that you are too.