“Hello, it’s me…” - Pondering the words of the song by Todd Rundgren, I became aware of their weight upon my consciousness. Not the kind of weight that burdens one with a load, but one that helps to remove it. Like the hand of a parent pulling the covers off to get you up in the morning. In this case it was like a hand pulling a veil from off my face so that I could wake up and see clearly.

Waking up to seeing clearly the mess caused by a life spent wasting time on selfish desires and meaningless pursuits. Confronted by the reality, I look for someone to blame.

“I've thought about it for a long, long time…” - It wasn’t my fault! I was ill prepared by my parents. They didn’t pay enough attention to me. I was never understood as a child. I was a loaner that never had many friends. No one understood me. Its not my fault I have told myself…but it is. I never understood me. I never awakened, even when my parents tried to arouse me. Or I should say I didn’t like the way my parents tried to get me to ‘wake up’. I wanted to be nurtured and fulfilled, coddled and accommodated. Holding on to the childish desire for attention, I never let go of the self-absorbed little boy, pouting and sulking in the corner.

“Maybe I think too much but something's wrong …” - The need to assign blame to something or someone outside you is just the mind’s fear of waking up. We want to go back to sleep and wrap ourselves in the false comfort and warmth of ignorance and unaccountability. A way to escape having to devote our minds and energies to those things that really matter. But there is no escaping yourself. Confronted by the mirror of our lives, we can choose to see or not to see it as it truthfully is.

Hello, it’s ME! I finally woke up to myself and the picture is not pretty. The first thing that comes to mind is the words of Oliver Hardy, "Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into!"

“Seeing you…” - I used to wonder what you’d look like. The woman whom I would spend my life and end my life with. The woman I pictured myself growing old with. What would you look like at 30 at 40 at 50 or 60 years, after a life of raising a family, raising our voices, building and cooking, frustrations and disappointments, making waves and making love together?

‘Love at first sight’, I wanted that! I certainly believe in it.

How I envied the lives of those I saw pictured in the movies that truly belonged to each other. Couples that had found the mate of their souls. The man totally devoted to the woman of his dreams! The woman that saw her future with this man. I wanted to be THAT man and bemoaned my misfortune, my seeming inability to realize that ideal.

“I took for granted that you were always there …” – Questioning 10 years of marriage, thinking that the life I wanted with you was a mistake after all. Then I woke up to the realization that I was sleeping next to the woman of my dreams, the mate of my soul. 10 years of moaning and complaining when I should have been celebrating. A life misspent, those years faded away, your youth and beauty still evident, but scarred by furrowed lines of disappointment. Beautiful eyes filled with love…no longer. Tears of resentment flow like the Nile, while mine are the Amazon of my regret.


Copyright ©2005 Anthony Hall