I remember rain so soft
The trees would make a joyous sigh.
I remember making stars
Of golden paper, pointed, bright.
I remember walking, frightened,
Mind racing of the monsters hidden.
I remember dirty, unwashed ears
That heard of wondrous things.
I remember singing loudly,
Frightening the imagined bears.
I remember lying on green grass
As cloud ships swept the skies.
I remember losing races,
Fleet of foot but just not quite.
I remember happy times
Unconcerned with what will be.
I remember listening
To cricket sounds in deepest night.
I remember wakening
To ruddy dawn and pale starlight.
I remember my bright soul
And long for it to be renewed.
— Jim Glines
May 18, 2013
On this, my 56th birthday, I wanted to make a wish. Sounds silly because, as an adult, wishing isn’t something realistic, but hope is. And I do have hope. I have learned again to hope but now that hope is tempered by a little more realism than it used to be.
I’ve wished on many a star in the past. How childish, but how poignant, too. I’m of the opinion that wishing doesn’t hurt in the long run but its effectiveness is completely questionable. The very same thing could be said of many human superstitions, but I’ll take wishing over most others hands down.
Then again, there are so many quaint human superstitions. Blowing on a dandelion to cast its seed, a wish attached to each parachute. Crossing fingers, knocking wood, throwing salt over your shoulder. This list goes on and on.
But I no longer live my life with superstition at its center.
How is it I feel old and young at the same instant in time? How is it that I, so frail a human, have yet made it through another year of life?
I don’t really know these things. What I do know is that I’m not a ‘celebrator’ of birthdays. Parties,gifts, observance of the day — those are imposed from without. But today, just today, I’m going to give myself a nod. I’m very lucky to have made it this far, and thanking well-wishers is a thing I am happy to do.
Though I maybe considered past any prime, I wish or perhaps even dare to hope that I will say the very same thing of myself twenty or more years from now. It may be twilight, but if I can still hear crickets I know I’m not yet gone. Others say to me ‘You’re not old’, well, that may or may not be true. But when it comes down to brass tacks, there’s a saying I rather think is apt:
‘It ain’t the years, honey, it’s the mileage.’
So, as I said in yesterday’s post, it’s time to Be Here Now and get rid of my ego for the day. It’s time to forget everything and just live in the moment and right now, the moment is telling me to get another cup of coffee, feed the cat and birthday on.
To those that love me, thank you is not enough to say. To those that don’t, oh well, too bad, it must be absolutely terrible to be you. And to those I will hopefully come to love in the remainder of my life — please, don’t be scared. I’m always like this.