The Ides Of March, almost a year since I began this ‘Hunker-down’. In that turning I’ve lived alone, socially/physically distanced from almost everyone. A full year in limbo is a tremendous price to pay for someone like me (80+). I remember a clever metaphor that relates to something that has been taken for granted, then restored, revalued and cherished like never before, “. . . like a drunk sailor with his last dollar.” Mind boggling how one can take for granted, piss away a precious thing without a second thought. It adds another layer of meaning to the familiar axiom, 'That was then and this is now.' I remember every year from age 4 or 5 and they all ring of ‘Precious’.
Life expectancy; at some point we all address mortality and weigh probability against possibility, knowing at the other end, there is an end; no redos. On this journey I bemoan neither the bad road nor the destination. Still, like the drunk sailor, I’m down to my last dollar and want to still have the last penny when I reach the other end. Do the math: a - b = c. You can calculate (b) today’s number which for me is just shy of 30,000. But without knowing when the last day (a) will fall, the days you have left, (c) is unknowable. That is a blessing; it makes every, single day so very special, so important. Winnie The Pooh and Piglet were walking. Pooh asked, “What day is it?” Piglet,“It’s today.” Pooh,“My favorite day.” Certainly today, and Tiny Tim or someone like him added, "God bless them everyone," (every day). Spending a year, hobbled like a pony in the barn, it cuts deep into a shrinking window of possibility. So this year on a short leash is a bigger deal now than it would have been forty years ago in1981.
Life expectancy; at some point we all address mortality and weigh probability against possibility, knowing at the other end, there is an end; no redos. On this journey I bemoan neither the bad road nor the destination. Still, like the drunk sailor, I’m down to my last dollar and want to still have the last penny when I reach the other end. Do the math: a - b = c. You can calculate (b) today’s number which for me is just shy of 30,000. But without knowing when the last day (a) will fall, the days you have left, (c) is unknowable. That is a blessing; it makes every, single day so very special, so important. Winnie The Pooh and Piglet were walking. Pooh asked, “What day is it?” Piglet,“It’s today.” Pooh,“My favorite day.” Certainly today, and Tiny Tim or someone like him added, "God bless them everyone," (every day). Spending a year, hobbled like a pony in the barn, it cuts deep into a shrinking window of possibility. So this year on a short leash is a bigger deal now than it would have been forty years ago in1981.
March 17 coming up, Saint Patrick’s Day. It will mark my one year, red-letter-day of Covid-lockdown. The next week or so will also mark Universal Human Beings Week, National Pet Sitters Week, National Women of Color Day, National Peanut Butter Lovers Day, Zero Discrimination Day, not to mention, Plan A Solo Vacation Day. It seems every day has has its own purpose.
Kicking the can down the road comes natural. When you are 20, you kick it as far as possible, caring little where it lands. By the time you log 29,790 wake-ups, you kick it just a short way and take pains to leave it with a good lie. The can is metaphor for this life, the lie is where and how you end of the day, the launch pad for tomorrow's journey. The kicking is for the living. Tomorrow is an unopened treasure, maybe even a mystery but in any case, I don’t want to miss it. I can’t speak for anybody else but for as long as this life is worth the waking up, I want to keep kicking it forward, even if just for a few feet and at the end of the day, leave it with a good lie.
Kicking the can down the road comes natural. When you are 20, you kick it as far as possible, caring little where it lands. By the time you log 29,790 wake-ups, you kick it just a short way and take pains to leave it with a good lie. The can is metaphor for this life, the lie is where and how you end of the day, the launch pad for tomorrow's journey. The kicking is for the living. Tomorrow is an unopened treasure, maybe even a mystery but in any case, I don’t want to miss it. I can’t speak for anybody else but for as long as this life is worth the waking up, I want to keep kicking it forward, even if just for a few feet and at the end of the day, leave it with a good lie.
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