What a melancholy little day. Could be the cubic foot of rain that’s descending upon the Palm Beaches. But whatever the symptom, it’s merely a cover-up for the cause.
A friend and I were just discussing how life’s lessons have to be expensive. What, is it that we won’t remember them if we aren’t paying dearly, whether out-of-pocket or with our souls? (Or both?)
Even though we have a lot to complain about, we know we have a lot for which to be thankful. It’s just, gah, why does it feel like we’re always paying not just for our own decisions/mistakes, but everyone else’s as well?
We do our damndest to keep up the smiles and the spirits. But on days like today when the cloud cover is gray and heavy, it’s too much to put a cork in it.
I dunno. I guess we all move forward not just with the best of intentions, but also with great expectation. You buy the house that’s just outside of your price range because your income will “grow into” it. You hide your neuroses and your teddy bears to show that awesome new guy that you’re not crazy — honest!
And once your sea legs stop wobbling so damn much, you get ready to take a few steps unassisted. But you just assume that there will still be ground to walk upon and that you’re not at the end of some metaphorical plank, ready to go swim with the fishies because you thought you were on “Gilligan’s Island” but it’s really an episode of “The Sopranos.”
But it’s the little things. The promise of a new tomorrow. The knowledge that karma owes you three times’ worth of good things than the bad things it’s given you so far. The possibility of living the dream, just as soon as you identify it. The sparkle in that boy’s eyes when he sees you next.
The world wants to take all of that away. And I’m not going to let it. It’s already taken away enough.
The game is on, my friends.