We each hold beliefs and expectations.
There is this reality, however, that strikes, where you come to realize, not all like fries.
In one way, I suggest this as, not all see it your way.
In another, I am merely confessing that not all company is for you as well.
The older we get, the longer my husband and I have found appreciation of our togetherness, the more we have come to terms of limiting friends and associates to surround ourselves with.
Perhaps we would have abundance if there were those around us with the same mindset towards the future, but funny thing is, the further forward, the less likely we find those moving in the same direction, to the next mile and the next.
Respectfully, paths just take on different courses.
So, it may not be that there aren’t those we can reach out to when feeling the need to have informal talk over lunch or dinner.
When it comes to social outings, there are those you know would be sure to have some time.
And, yet, we now intentionally question, Will this be good company?
Not just good as for letting time pass by with trivial chit-chat.
Conversations become more precious and valuable with time.
Good represents narrowed-down specifics as the journey of life lengthens and time shortens.
Value in character.
Type of mindset.
Morality.
Commonality of interests.
Above all, intuition- that gut feeling of one’s intentions.
There is a care for finding those contributing to positivity, not negativity, where such withdrawal of energy will just lead to a deficit.
This can be difficult to ascertain. Still, one is accountable for the choices self-made.
There is no blame toward any other for the free will given you.
Passing time when younger was time well spent with good laughter and interesting moments.
Reaching into golden years, there is this understanding within that to simply use up time given without thought is no longer acceptable.
The coming of reality is that rarely there can be found those continuing to carry on with the same acuity as you; that keen focus to more betterment for the heart, mind, body, and spirit.
Even running into someone you have long since spoken to simply attests, at times, a wider gap of commonality as you listen to their thoughts.
Deep inside, you know there will be nothing more to pursue after this last chanced conversation.
You can smile at where you’ve been while pushing and moving forward.
Some just like to dwell upon a time of place in life a little longer than others. Their happy place was perhaps yours, too. Just so long ago.
Funny how there was so much more forgiveness with company when younger, even desiring to reach out and interact with anyone and everyone to pass time.
You think, ‘Surely no harm.’
And then, a learning lesson in every turn of chapters of life takes place.
There was this appreciation for those telling you what you wanted to hear to boost your own ego or fill your self worth.
You cleaved to those seemingly wanting your company, your presence feeling needed and wanted. Thus, reciprocating the same desire.
You think to be understood, to be seen as important or dignified.
You shun from correction or reprimand to better you, perhaps feeling or thinking there can be no love found or a sense of appreciation for the very likes of you.
There is comfort in those who present themselves to accept and understand you.
And, then, I would like to think it’s like watching our two youngest boys playing video games.
Sure. There can be joy heard when they are into a good battle or challenge between each other, friends, or sometimes, even their father.
As if intuitively cued, we either tell them to take a break to go outside or spend time doing something else on their own. Or, to my quiet joy, each simply put down their electronics and decide for themselves they need a break.
I could play Galaga for long periods at a laundromat near our home during sixth grade or Tetris all night at a friend’s house back in high school.
That was about it with time used up for games, however.
Passing time can be quite fun. That saying about things “getting old” realistically only applies to the one that is, however. You.
I know this will come with our two youngest as it did for our oldest three; eventually, there is this growing out of what used to be your center to another focal point.
My husband and I still reminisce about spending our few dollars just to eat pie and ice cream (we confess to have invested in this yum over healthy choices back then!) while watching Jerry Springer to stay up past midnight.
Those moments today, staying up late and just eating our feelings are so rare and few.
In the journey to search greater meaning of life, you add to your ventures. (Catch it? Adventures?)
There perhaps was that time where you stubbornly wanted to do things your way.
Anyone who told you to do otherwise or questioned your chosen steps made you rebelliously distance yourself from that direction, far from where you were hoped to go instead.
Having five children and having come from the youngest of five, I get this desire to spread your wings and fly.
(Or, hide in your closet for the sake of peace like I used to when I hadn’t found wings yet.)
The only part to the challenge is when all of a sudden, you find yourself running into your own branches, storms, and even simple windows you thought were a clear way through (I’ve seen several birds fly right into several glass windows in my life).
There arrives those who then ache for direction once lost or confused of ways chosen, arriving to wonder how time came to be where you spent listening to no one or the wrong ones.
There are those who get hit with the truth that eventually, the path of others could lead one to the same destiny.
There are those who then have this fear creep inside, sensing that to continue on this same path, one’s wings will eventually tire of flying if without direction.
Father bird, you let go.
Mother bird, you let go.
You are in confused spite, but must cling onto the grace of having wanted to do things your way.
You think back to when you were given direction. You are thankful for that foundation given you. Thankfully, you know deep inside, because of those lessons planted, you will be fine.
Some just find comfort in a nest too long. It’s like a video game console with food on the table and a warm blanket when needed has been placed conveniently within your every reach to keep you cozy in the same spot.
Sadly, for those, while there is sometimes breakage of monotony, the simple fact that the same setting awaits if one should see themselves to fail again, welcomes each moment you want to curl right back into its known comfort.
Self-pity is part of the comforting role taken as a victim of life instead of as a victor.
A blanket, thus, is wrapped around one whose wings seemed to not have handled flight well to a time where the wings will have been forgotten.
Everyone around will thus, accept that bird to never fly off to its own horizons.
Thankfully, I was not so.
I was determined to be a soar in flight, not a sore in sight.
I believe since early on, I had already made up my mind I would lead the way out for others whether they wanted to follow or not.
I tricked my own mind when needed to believe I was always victorious of my surroundings, no matter the battles.
No matter what home I found myself in, I could dance within.
My love for those around me drove me to have the desire to break through seemingly unbreakable walls and unknown paths.
One opportunity given after another to reach higher ground, I took.
Most importantly, whenever something in my flight seemed to have brought me down to lower altitude, I found myself strengthening my wings even more to soar higher.
In looking, I could see some tried several altitudes with me, but eventually, the higher the elevation, the more I realized there were less willing, to an arrival of no one but my husband and our children trusting in us.
There is respect of others with understanding- not everyone was made to think and desire like you.
Not everyone knows how to push others forward if their own actions and attempts have had their own deterrence.
While I love to touch ground at times just to smell the flowers and feel the coolness of the still waters, I have found importance in caring not to just wallow.
There is a garden in my head I tend to. This garden, my secret garden, I’ve tended to for some time.
In seeing and being exposed to amazing possibilities, I shall never retire tending to this secret garden of mine, well protected by my heart, my mind, my body, and my spirit.
There is no positive, thriving growth amongst weeds or thorny vines.
I know this too well now.
This, one has learned much and will thus, keep watch to not repeat.
A garden doesn’t pull, prune, and trim itself.
A weed or a prickly vine must not kill, steal, and destroy the flowers tended to and cared for to bloom.
There is no pridefulness or elitist thinking in tending to a garden for one’s preservation of goodness and pleasantry.
Anyone whose heart, mind, body, or spirit have ever experienced time and emotion invested to where the result was loss and hurt, a reality comes to be embraced.
It is not that a weed or prickly vine cannot dwell with a rose or even a daisy. It is more the question of why?
Does one continue to place a rotting fruit with the rest?
Do we drink polluted water if not privileged to filter out the parts that could sicken or kill us?
There is this training one experiences to understand but thankfully, not have to endure.
I once have said coming back from the pandemic that there is a difference between caring and enabling.
I see enabling as harmful, like a weed or prickly vine with no accountability for damage.
I see caring as a push to the right direction, stopping or ridding of anything else that could harm one’s potential to thrive.
We may not like the trimming and pruning upon us, but the caretaker does such work in all the hopes you will bloom at your finest.
Let the weeds and prickly vines grow around you, they will take over.
You will be but a withering, choked up, could-have-been beautiful rose.
Whether you want to admit it or not, there comes this eventual desire to be directed again when we lose our way.
Like a dying plant, if not too late, life can be restored.
It is to be understood.
You feel to be in the winning side when the push is only yours, your time, your way, your decision- how and when.
You dwell in the comfort of a lake that stays still because all seem utterly peaceful.
You lay in bed to the comfort of its warmth without the pressure of having to get up and out.
You sit on the couch where the remote, food, and even the bathroom is at your ease to reach.
The world has no matter with you.
You have no matter to the world.
To reach such endpoint, I wonder, how does one express to care if the driver to such destination?
You have no matter to the world.
An endpoint to embrace, perhaps.
I would suppose I will. Such utter peace to arrive to where the thrill of joyfully embracing the understanding that you are no longer needed by the world.
I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.
I saw this in the eyes of one who I respected as a grandmother.
My lasting memory with her was to find ourselves alone in her living room.
She expressed eagerness to see me, as if she had waited upon my arrival.
While I did not come to directly visit her, I had always made a point to pay my respect.
She was humming to a tune, expressing extreme excitement, as if she was getting ready for a great ball.
I will never forget how she took my right hand and suggested joyfully that we dance.
Dance we did, following her lead, waltzing around in that living room, alone together, before she ended such a blessed memory for me with a smile.
She rested for good shortly after that time.
I will get there someday. I know I will. That last dance.
And yet, I plan to not arrive to that final resting destination for some time.
I have a garden to still tend to that is not quite ready to pass on.
My orders are my own to own.
Not everyone likes fries.
I’m good with that.
