The Hannya at 39
But time makes you bolder.
Children get older.
I'm getting older too.
I'm getting older too.
So, take my love, take it down.
Oh climb a mountain and turn around.
If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,
well the landslide will bring you down, down.
And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,
well maybe the landslide will bring it down.
Oh, the landslide will bring it down.
-Fleetwood Mac, Landslide (excerpt)
Well here it is. 3:11 am, the morning after my 39th birthday.
It was a good day.
It started with breakfast in bed brought to me by Kelli and my daughter, Chloe.
After I drank my coffee and woke up a bit, I went for a run. No. No one was chasing me. I went for a run because I signed up for a 5k run in October and I have to get my ass back in training mode for it, else I have a heart attack right before Halloween and that just won't do. I didn't run as long as I was at my prime a few years ago, but I ran...and it felt good. It felt right. That's what matters.
I got back home, rested my jello-legs and talked with Mark and Amanda for a bit over birthday wishes.
We continued the day with visiting J.F. Gonzalez and Brian Keene at a signing/fund raising effort at the Comix Connection and then stopping by my brother/one of my best friends on the planet, Buddha, aka Doug Metherell to check on his daughter, who recently broke her femur in a playground accident.
After coming back, we picked up my son, Carson, and lounged around a bit, had a picnic, ate some cake, and ended up playing with Funky Werepig, Greg Hall and his lovely wife, Sam. They brought me a codpiece to be feared and joined us while we watched fireworks and the evening ended up with some time in the kiddie pool and star gazing.
It was a good day.
So why, you may ask, am I still awake at this time of morning.
I don't know. I don't have an answer.
This post isn't going to be some maudlin entry about how I'm feeling some midlife crisis or how I'm fearful of mortality. The truth is, I don't know what it's really about.
I do feel older but not in a bad way. I look at my children. My daughter, 10 years old, but just on the edge of becoming a young woman. I revisited memories of her as a baby today. Seems so long ago that I held her in the middle of the night as the bottle warmer sizzled in its cradle. So long ago that I drove her and her mother home from the hospital as Muddy Waters' Electric Mud cd played on the truck stereo.
I look at her now. Her sense of humor. Her silliness. Her heart, easily touched. Easily hurt. Her eyes, full of emotion and baring her spirit whole and complete for the world to see.
I look at my son, six, coming into his own as a young boy. His hair always tousled and mussed. He recently learned to ride a bike without training wheels and he's taken on the mentality of a viking warrior guiding his stallion. He's willful and strong, stubborn as all hell, but carries a heart as tender as any beneath his lean chest.
Changes, every day. Good. Bad. Neutral.
I don't have a problem with change, but damn there's been a landslide over the past couple of years. Enough changes to gag a rhino.
Truth is, I am feeling older. Not as old as my years, hell no. But noticing enough to make a difference in my mentality.
My mother turned 59 this year. My father, 60.
How the hell did that happen? You're kidding, right? My mother is the one who packed down a trail in the front lawn and pulled me with her onto a homemade toboggan out of barn roof tin to sled our asses off in the middle of winter.
My father? Hell, that guy's the one that has boundless energy. He can roof a house or plow a field and still have time to stay up and watch a good boxing match at night.
Time is a beast you cannot reckon with.
It flows, fluid and slick through your days while you do your thing. You don't notice it until it's there in front of you and BOOM, there it is. Ten years have gone by and you barely blinked.
It's truth in its rawest form, but no, I'm not maudlin. I'm not upset about it.
Though the past few years have brought change without end, I've come to realize a few things.
Change is inevitable. It's going to happen so you'd best just buckle in for the ride. You can accept it, or you can fight it, but either way, in the end, it's going to happen.
Each year is a new year. Each day is a new day. Each moment, a new moment. They're all yours if you decide to own them. You can waste them. You can make use of them. Either choice is fine, but accept the choice for what it is.
Time does make you bolder. Children do get older. We get older too.
I've seen my reflection in the snow covered hills.
I've seen a landslide... but it hasn't brought me down.
I'm still standing and I'll be standing long after this.
I've got to see what happens next.
I've got to see the changes.
I've got to see.
*****
Monday... big changes in store for the Coroner's Report.
Children get older.
I'm getting older too.
I'm getting older too.
So, take my love, take it down.
Oh climb a mountain and turn around.
If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,
well the landslide will bring you down, down.
And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,
well maybe the landslide will bring it down.
Oh, the landslide will bring it down.
-Fleetwood Mac, Landslide (excerpt)
Well here it is. 3:11 am, the morning after my 39th birthday.
It was a good day.
It started with breakfast in bed brought to me by Kelli and my daughter, Chloe.
After I drank my coffee and woke up a bit, I went for a run. No. No one was chasing me. I went for a run because I signed up for a 5k run in October and I have to get my ass back in training mode for it, else I have a heart attack right before Halloween and that just won't do. I didn't run as long as I was at my prime a few years ago, but I ran...and it felt good. It felt right. That's what matters.
I got back home, rested my jello-legs and talked with Mark and Amanda for a bit over birthday wishes.
We continued the day with visiting J.F. Gonzalez and Brian Keene at a signing/fund raising effort at the Comix Connection and then stopping by my brother/one of my best friends on the planet, Buddha, aka Doug Metherell to check on his daughter, who recently broke her femur in a playground accident.
After coming back, we picked up my son, Carson, and lounged around a bit, had a picnic, ate some cake, and ended up playing with Funky Werepig, Greg Hall and his lovely wife, Sam. They brought me a codpiece to be feared and joined us while we watched fireworks and the evening ended up with some time in the kiddie pool and star gazing.
It was a good day.
So why, you may ask, am I still awake at this time of morning.
I don't know. I don't have an answer.
This post isn't going to be some maudlin entry about how I'm feeling some midlife crisis or how I'm fearful of mortality. The truth is, I don't know what it's really about.
I do feel older but not in a bad way. I look at my children. My daughter, 10 years old, but just on the edge of becoming a young woman. I revisited memories of her as a baby today. Seems so long ago that I held her in the middle of the night as the bottle warmer sizzled in its cradle. So long ago that I drove her and her mother home from the hospital as Muddy Waters' Electric Mud cd played on the truck stereo.
I look at her now. Her sense of humor. Her silliness. Her heart, easily touched. Easily hurt. Her eyes, full of emotion and baring her spirit whole and complete for the world to see.
I look at my son, six, coming into his own as a young boy. His hair always tousled and mussed. He recently learned to ride a bike without training wheels and he's taken on the mentality of a viking warrior guiding his stallion. He's willful and strong, stubborn as all hell, but carries a heart as tender as any beneath his lean chest.
Changes, every day. Good. Bad. Neutral.
I don't have a problem with change, but damn there's been a landslide over the past couple of years. Enough changes to gag a rhino.
Truth is, I am feeling older. Not as old as my years, hell no. But noticing enough to make a difference in my mentality.
My mother turned 59 this year. My father, 60.
How the hell did that happen? You're kidding, right? My mother is the one who packed down a trail in the front lawn and pulled me with her onto a homemade toboggan out of barn roof tin to sled our asses off in the middle of winter.
My father? Hell, that guy's the one that has boundless energy. He can roof a house or plow a field and still have time to stay up and watch a good boxing match at night.
Time is a beast you cannot reckon with.
It flows, fluid and slick through your days while you do your thing. You don't notice it until it's there in front of you and BOOM, there it is. Ten years have gone by and you barely blinked.
It's truth in its rawest form, but no, I'm not maudlin. I'm not upset about it.
Though the past few years have brought change without end, I've come to realize a few things.
Change is inevitable. It's going to happen so you'd best just buckle in for the ride. You can accept it, or you can fight it, but either way, in the end, it's going to happen.
Each year is a new year. Each day is a new day. Each moment, a new moment. They're all yours if you decide to own them. You can waste them. You can make use of them. Either choice is fine, but accept the choice for what it is.
Time does make you bolder. Children do get older. We get older too.
I've seen my reflection in the snow covered hills.
I've seen a landslide... but it hasn't brought me down.
I'm still standing and I'll be standing long after this.
I've got to see what happens next.
I've got to see the changes.
I've got to see.
*****
Monday... big changes in store for the Coroner's Report.
posted by Bob at 6/27/2010
2 Comments:
Stick around. It gets worse.
Wait until 40 - the volume of gray hair changes everything. I'm getting there (quickly) and I'm reminded often by my children that it's downhill from there. I prepare to hang on and enjoy the ride!
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