happy

blog

October 6^th, 2008

7:58 pm

A slow-to-wake morning.

Holding S.B.. Wishing it was another Sunday. A do-over day so we could share a little more time. But we rise and get it at. She walks to work through puddles despite the chance of more rain. And I get at it for Little Man. Jam on toast. Hands and face washed. Teeth brushed. Changed clothes. And we are full-swing into Monday.

I find pee in the sheets. The pillow and blankets. Another morning of laundry. But that's the way it goes in the life of a two-year old. And there's not much you can do, but open the washer, add water and soap, and move on with the day. There will be bigger accidents as he grows, so there's no use bellyaching about dirty laundry. There are people with bigger problems. Deeper concerns. So writing about my kid's urine just doesn't seem appropriate.

Bail outs. Insider trading. Bullets through neighborhoods. And I wonder if we share similarities at the core. If we do, then why do we stray so far from that moment?

Conception. Incubation. Maturation.

We exit into the light and immediately the shaping begins.

We are on our road to better things, worse things, nothing. All along the way, directed by guidance, or the lack thereof, and so it goes. Boys into broken down old men. Girls into wrinkled shells. And once appearances are gone, if we have learned anything at all, it seems to me we regain that closeness to the core.

Probably why old folks go to chapel. Tell stories of how it used to be. Enjoy visitors, appreciate family, take such good care of pets.

Or maybe not. I don't know. But it seems to me we ought to be tapping these folks for information. Stopping them on the street and asking questions. Youth, the way it is steeped in entertainment, obsessed with becoming, and hell-bent on getting what it wants, is lucky it survives at all.

Young men wearing pants that show underwear and a*s. Girls and women owned by Revlon and Maybelline. So many so high on the moment that they cannot see the consequences of their actions. That things are not what they seem.

I remember it well. The youth I've had. The time I've let slip away. All those wasted moments. Creating and drowning sorrows all in the name of having fun. The hurtful things I've said and done. All of it tucked away in my attic. So that at night I sometimes wake and find myself back there. Seeing seconds unfold, recognizing that there are plenty of things I could have done better. Done right. If I'd only taken a breath. Looked up at the sky. Thought about who I was and where I was from. That there is never such a thing as having the world by the balls. That nearly everything matters. And that life, as fleeting as it seems, cannot be lived on the surface basking in the temporary glow of immediate satisfaction.

Life is long. Living takes time. And time is the best teacher I've ever had.

If I could go back, I wouldn't change a thing. I'm aware that I am the sum of my mistakes as well as my successes. That we cannot get this far in life without having stepped on some toes, created tears, contemplated what's waiting on the other side. And happiness, as it turns out, is made up of many horrible things. Loss and defeat. Pain and doubt. And so I am thankful for this.

These slow-to-wake mornings.

Holding my wife. The woman I cannot believe loves me despite my wretched ways.

And jam on toast for our son. His little hands and mouth covered in sweet crumbs.

"Thank you, Daddy!" he says.

And I am happy because all is right with the world.

 

~ K.J.

(copyright © 2008 by K.J. Stevens)