Oddly Enough

Oddly enough, it seems as if generally when I'm totally weary and just about ready to give up, but decide to give it one last big push that I break through.  It's as if I need to PROVE my commitment over and over.  I WILL do this.  Fortunately, every time that this happens it reaffirms to me that there's a REASON I'm so blasted stubborn.

Life is hard.

It's good, it's beautiful, it's wonderful, and it goes by surprisingly fast.

But it is hard.

You're struggling to deal with the sleep schedule (NOT) of a newborn.
You're struggling to deal with medical bills, ear infections (Tubes?  Yes/No?) and teething.
You're struggling to deal with school supplies, bullying and Cub or Brownie projects.
You're struggling to deal with saving for college (oh SHIT I should've done this sooner), panic over driving (oh SHIT I have to give him/her the keys?) and insurance rates, and grades.
You're struggling to deal with the first heartbreak, not getting invited to the party/prom/whatever.
You're struggling to deal with them finding a job.
You're struggling to deal with college or first apartment and being gone.

And then you look up and HOLY SHIT 18-20 years have passed.  I was 23 last time I looked.  Now I'm 43?!!!  Where in the hell did all this weight come from?  I've got GRAY HAIRS?  HUNH?  But I just BLINKED.

I am incredibly proud of my adult son.  But I miss him.  I keep working at the day job, at the writing, taking care of the house and the animals, all the stuff of life, but I look up occasionally from having my nose pressed to that grindstone (gotta get it all DONE, gotta) and realize that even more years have rolled by.

My body is a workhorse.  I am very proud of what it's survived.  But it sure as hell doesn't look like a supermodel.  It creaks (I was going to say in the morning, but I'd be lying to us both) like the floorboards of an old house.  But it IS an old house.  It is the building that has housed my soul all these many years.  It gave me my son.  Gave me pleasure.  Endured pain.  But it is sagging and needs a bit of rehab, perhaps a coat of fresh paint. 

I am okay with that.  I've earned every scar.

But I think that I am going to try from now on to look up from the grindstone a bit more often, to see the sunrise (Yeah, I get up that early) and the moonrise, listen to the birds (that the cats haven't gotten to).  Take a walk.  Go to a movie. 

Yeah, the work needs to be done.  But it'll always be there.  It is a fact.  There is always more work.  It expands exponentially to fill every void.  If you don't take control of your time someone else will, and you won't be happy with the result.

So today I stopped to blog.  It was going to be about persistence and its value.  That's there.  It's valuable.  But somewhere along the way we hit a detour into general musings.  And that's okay too.  The happy man is the one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.

Enjoy the scenery.

Cie