Memory is obscured by the fog of the reality we want to remember and the things that truly happened.
Your 984nd favorite troublemaker stood in a fancy coffee shop staring off into space thinking about next steps, not realizing he was staring in the general direction of a couple whose canoodling was supposed to be ignored because they live in their own world.
“Hey man, can I help you?”
My woolgathering was so intense it took a moment for me to realize the first comment was directed to me but not so long to recognize the “are you deaf” wasn’t intended in a friendly manner.
I looked up but the man wasn’t looking at me because he was busy trying to inhale the lower lip of the woman he was with.
She whispered something and he responded with, “I love you more!”
He made a point of trying to look cool as he slowly turned his head to face me.
“Can I help you with something? Do you have a problem with love?”
I laughed, “nah, I love you most of all scarecrow.”
Can’t say if he got the reference or didn’t appreciate my reflecting his attitude back at him because he just glared at me.
“Sometimes you say ‘I love you more’ and find out it is true. Keep your eyes open, you might not like that particular discovery.
I Love You More
The barista called my name and I grabbed my fancy seasonal latte, made with almond milk so as to not rile my stomach.
I grabbed it, sat down at a table, took a long sip and thought about the coming days and how to manage the coming days.
Sat there and remembered when David told me the brain tumor had come back and how I didn’t know to ask how serious it really was.
Were it to happen all over again I would know how to do it differently and I would have grabbed him by the collar and insisted he let me help carry the load.
Or so I like to think because the reality is I wasn’t the guy who hadn’t yet hit 30 and was forced to think about my own mortality.
I don’t know if there is a right or wrong way to do it, but I am not sure I would share the news with many, if any.
I’d want to be treated the same as always. Would it make it better or harder for my kids to know the clock that is tick-tocking my life away is moving far faster than we thought.
Maybe I would tell you and maybe I wouldn’t.
If the only contact you have with me is here you might not ever learn of a change or you might learn of every one.
That is the funny thing about life, you don’t know what you would do in many situations until you encounter them.
If you are really lucky the roughest thing you ever encounter is discovering “I love you more” is the most honest thing you have said.
Four years ago I saw a cardiologist here in the fabulous Lonestar State and took a few tests that showed my ticker and its team is in pretty good shape.
In the years since I have had about four root canals, surgery for a double hernia, a dislocated finger but no heart trouble of the physical sort.
The intangible is different, that sucker got a wake up call. He got torn out and torn up, but the physical one is still good or so I think.
If you go by the blood work of this past January things aren’t horrible but could use some improvement.
Blood pressure and cholesterol are high and need some attention but we’re a long way off from dialysis. I am looking at you dad.
Anyhoo, there are moments where I wonder why I can’t just visit the blacksmith and ask him to help out with a few things.
It would and could be a very easy fix, but alas easy is a fantasy.
Sometimes my daughter tries to tease me or make a point by saying I am almost 50.
She is right, I am getting closer every day but what she doesn’t understand is how young that is or the privilege that comes with living a little bit longer.
I am happy my daughter hasn’t had any experiences with friends dying young and I hope she never does.
It makes sense for her to think of me as old as I once thought of my parents and anyone else who was around 50 or older.
Now it doesn’t sound so bad but I am not particularly anxious to get there, or maybe I am.
I keep thinking about it and wondering if some of the physical stuff that is going on is temporary or forever. Keep wondering what I can do to slow time down, and maybe even change it.
The kid in the coffee shop can’t decide if he wants to let me have the last word. It might be because he just realized I have four inches and 80 pounds or something else entirely.
I don’t want to talk or engage in a pissing contest. I really was lost in thought and not staring at him.
All I want to do is figure out how to handle something far more serious than this dumb interaction and I haven’t any good ideas.
It feels a bit like I am playing a game where I don’t know all of the rules and I don’t like that. This isn’t the sort of thing you can win but you can definitely lose so the lack of clarity is disturbing.
I am flying by the seat of my pants and making things happen, but I don’t know if I am making the right things happen.
Maybe one day this will make for a good story, but I am not particularly fond of it right now. Got plenty to be thankful for, but this isn’t one.
Life is interesting sometimes.