Every Memorial Day I think of the young men from past wars who received a notice in the mail to report to their local draft board and get ready for war. I can’t imagine that; getting a letter to report, packing up, and going. Your life literally in the hands of your country’s government for the unforeseeable future with no guarantees that you’ll come back home alive.
This helps me honor and remember the men and women who served and sacrificed their lives, both voluntarily and involuntarily, protecting the freedoms we so often take for granted, and not just in America, but across globe.
I try not to regret things. Bad or good, what happened has happened. Good things end, bad things end. I must be grateful because these things mold me into who I am. I am growing. I am a living, breathing person, made of flesh and blood and bone. I’m not who I was yesterday nor will I be the same person tomorrow.
On the way home this evening, I felt numb. The route home was slightly different but most of it was the same. There was the drive west on 36th Street instead of 41st Street but the rest was dark and wet.
It started raining but for a while, I didn’t notice. The rain made it difficult to see through the windshield but I didn’t turn on the wipers. At some point, it clicked.
It’s raining. Better put on the windshield wipers.
When I arrived at home, the cats were ready to play. Some of them sat and kept their distance while others approached me and made their presence abundantly known. After a few minutes, I went upstairs and settled in. My bedroom is off limits to them.
Should I turn on the TV, read or surf the internet? Decisions, decisions. Maybe I should think. Thinking is never one of the choices. It should be. Must keep thinking in mind for next time.
The nocturnal animals slosh around outside on the wet ground. It stopped raining. I don’t know. I took my anti-depressants and a sleep aid. I need to relax. I need to forget a few things.
A story for another time, perhaps?
He built a huge wall around his house. It’s an impressive wall, a wall that people admire.
But a crime has been committed. There is a good possibility that learning about what motivated the crime is beyond his impressive wall and in his stately manor.
“Mr. Apple, could you help us gather information about this crime? All we need you to do is knock a hole in your impressive wall. We only want to enter once and we assure you no one, and we mean no one, will ever use your hole again.”
Mr. Apple looks around at his impressive wall and says, “You don’t understand. If I knock a hole into my impressive wall I won’t be able to repair it. Anyone could come in. People could walk right in and do all sorts of unsavory things. I’m not saying you will but, I don’t know, you might.”
Law enforcement looks at Mr. Apple and says, “You’re being untrusting and unreasonable. We’re the good guys. Make that fucking hole, Mr. Apple.”
Admittedly, it is very hard for me to get through the holidays. I used to have places to go and people to see. I even had people in my very own home. I’m alone for the second year in a row. It’s easier this year but not by much. I find myself struggling to find things to do and keep myself busy.
This Christmas Eve I am watching Christmas movies. It would be nice to make this a tradition. It’s simple and not very hard to maintain. Christmas movies, a bag of potato chips and some beer or soda. Why not?
I will sleep in on Christmas Day. The only commitment I have is to Star Wars: The Force Awakens. I plan to see it again in the afternoon. Once that event is put to rest, I will read. Escape, really.
I’ve always wanted to write a story that began with “Once upon a time.”
There has never been a story that started with “Once upon a time” that hasn’t grabbed me. What will happen, I always ask myself?
And with that I am whisked away, like an old man’s hat being carried off by the wind. Like the hat, I have no idea where I’ll wind up but I’m sure to be a changed man once I arrive there.
I am better but I am still a long ways from being normal.
I mean, what’s normal anyway? Sitting alone in a small corner of the house and reading a book? Going to the movies alone? I know they are normal to me but are they normal for everyone?
It would have probably taken an incredible amount of strength to exorcise those rituals from my routine. I know that you possess that sort of strength. You always spoke of dragging me out of my shell. I suppose in the grand scheme of things I was not what you wanted to waste your strength on.