Lunatic Fringe

All these roads going nowhere. My eyes on everything except what’s in front of us, we’ll get there soon enough though, I know. Hundreds of different streets, they were somedays once too. Just like me, I could’ve been any one of them. But not today, for me, maybe someday. Hundreds of streets. Millions of different houses, unique to each all are questions they beg. Special to all are their outlooks on the world. I wonder what they could’ve told me- maybe shown something different- if they were mine. Maybe too if I knew something different I’d be there now- in the instant just passed- intent on seeing for the first time something I’ve missed for just this long. There is so much left to know in each and every one of them, and really, to me, that makes them all the same. I suppose they’ve shown me something already. Or maybe I’d be half a world away from here, had I known that something sooner, indifferent to these possibilities though, these ideas and places just passed, pass me by. They’v...

And so we turn for home, in a car still not quite warm. He climbs into my lap and very quickly falls asleep, as if to say the hard part of today is over. My mind races, my reflexes though are unresponsive, and we nose along at the same speed, as if I were not having these thoughts at all. I think about a million things, about how it still hasn’t fully fallen upon me that the gray hairs I see in the mirror are not temporary, are not so much just a stage as they are a passage. A betrayal of the body that the mind has failed to acknowledge, and there will be more to come, I fear. Comfort is a good thing, as is peace, and even though these are disjointed thoughts I never wanted to find myself in a position where I would be willing to accept small victories. But that’s what life seems to be, acquiescing increasingly meager positions in a losing war, under the guise of dignity, and wisdom. I find myself struggling with the fact that we are too absorbed in childish things to appreciate our fo...