Light snow. Cold and gray. Standard issue scenery for the first day of December in Michigan. We are bundled up. Preparing for the holidays. Keeping the spirits up. Aware of the bad in this world, but focusing on the good.
I am thankful for much. Aware of more. But aiming on what has got me this far. Hope. Perserverance. Trust. Half of my life is likely over. There's no getting around it. I'm thirty-five. Have a family history of heart problems and cancer. Have done my share of irreprepable harm to parts that are not easily replaced. I don't have health insurance. Savings. Nothing to fall back on. When my number is up, it's up. There won't be any drawn out battles with a terminal disease. There will not be exotic treatments and expensive false hope. It will only be me. Meeting my day. I will accept it, move on into the unknown believing that there's enough of me left to carry on this code of keeping at the keepin' on.
We all have our crutches, I guess. And this writing is my own. It is fiction. It will not last. But doing it makes me feel better. Working at perfecting it makes me feel important. Like I'm making a positive impact upon this world. Much like volunteering, or going to church, or taking foster children into my home. We all have a purpose. Some are not as important to the world as others. Mine is not. I know this. But it is mine and it's all I've ever had and there's no use in giving up now. I like to think there's more to it than me.
Once in a while I get an email. A letter. A card. And I'm always humbled that there are people out there reading what I create. What I'm tuned into. What I've chosen to share. That is the biggest reward. Connecting to others. Complete strangers. Knowing that my words are sometimes weighty enough to stick with them. That maybe they can hear my voice. Feel it. That it makes them think.
I've been thinking a lot these days. The full realization of being a Dad and Hubby sinking in. It's a great responsibility, this family life. I could not have known how hard and difficult, how eye-opening and beautiful it would be had I not taken the plunge. There is much to building a good, solid family. To loving your wife. Your child. To being all you can be for them without losing sight of yourself. It is a great sacrifice. A long journey. There is much to learn. And here I stand. The first day of December. A long, promising journey ahead of me.
I have never wanted anything so much. And now that I have it, I want to do all I can to succeed. To be strong. Faithful. A friend. To guide and be guided. To learn and grow and listen and understand. And it is a lot. More than I ever imagined. It is not simply about trading vows and rings and living in the same house, having kids, paying bills, and sharing accounts. It is about everything. And everything is a lot. I suppose that's why it takes a lifetime to get it right. Why there are tears and laughter. Happiness and sorrow. Doors opening and doors being slammed shut. But in all of it, if there is respect and a mutual desire to grow and evolve, things should be okay.
And being okay is more than I could ever ask for. Especially today. Light snow. Cold and gray. Standard issue scenery for this first December day. Bundling up. Prepping for the holidays. Doing our best to keep spirits up. Aware of the bad in this world. That big old clock ticking away. But focusing on the good.
