an entry (18 years ago)

6:00 PM

            There are many of these days.

            Hard-waking. Slow to rise. Stumble down the stairs. Shower to life. Dry. Deodorize. Dress the part. Head out to the truck. And there it is. Fresh air. Clean snow. A brilliant, rising sky. And I want to stand and breathe and believe all of those things that I used to believe. How simple life is. That love is all around. That there are beautiful, thinking people out there rising to the day, carrying dreams, wanting something else, a bit more, but I stop myself. Once I start, I will not want it to end.

            Reality is momentary. We must equip ourselves with the tools of the day. A pleasant attitude. A phony smile. False confidence. So that we can find the key. Turn the ignition. Motor into the day. Live the life of a person we weren’t meant to be. 

            We weren’t meant for this.

            These routine days. This forced permanence in a world of flux. But we settle anyway. For family, we say. For security, we believe. And we convince ourselves of this so that we can feel that we’ve accomplished something. That we’ve done right. That we have provided, helped and loved, so that someone else can carry on. Maybe grow up, make the break, be the person we wanted so much to be.          

            It’s too late for us to change. There’ll be no breaking through. No rising high. We will live the middle class life of living, buying and dying, and we will pass as surely as any others. We are the bridge between the Haves and the Have Nots. The part that’s skipped when a person goes from rags to riches. Riches to rags. We are filler in the pothole. Caulk around the winter window. The hands that bear the caskets.

            We are not meant for greater things. And greater things are not meant for us. Slowly, blindly, we lose touch with those things that burn deep. The childhood beliefs, the enthusiasm, the heart-pounding urgency. All of it  is sighed away to sleep. 

            Until we wake the next day.

            Here is another chance, we think. Maybe this is the day.   

            The alarm sounds. We struggle to pull ourselves from the warmth. Shower. Dry. Deodorize. Dress the part, and walk into another cold winter day.

~ KJ