Warranted or not, I fancy myself a bit of a wordsmith, yet I am so frequently astounded by how many of my own thoughts I am unable to adequately expound upon…….certain hopes, unrealistic dreams, profound fears, monumental regrets……..concerns that bobble around inside my cranial cavity like a miniature magnetic hula dancer on a dune buggy’s dashboard. As I sit here once again watching ‘The Shawshank Redemption’, as usual I take pause at Morgan Freeman’s character ‘Red’ as he presents his monologue to the parole board toward the end of the movie. I am always drawn into Morgan’s brilliant portrayal of a man examining his own life, and the anguish he is enduring as he nonverbally asks himself “Where did my life go?”……….a familiar comment that I hear from different people on an almost regular basis. As I look around my living room I don’t need to ask myself that question because the answer is all around me. It’s in the brown bomber jacket leather couch to my right that Marcella & I picked out together many years ago, the ficus tree in the corner with the white Italian lights on it, the oak sofa table with some of Quint & Cait’s childhood bedtime books on it, the pewter framed picture of Marcella in it, beside the open book framed pictures of my parents……...one of them on their wedding day, and the other on their 50th wedding anniversary………and so on around the room. Each of these items isnt a ‘thing’, it is a tangible connection to my past via a vivid memory. My home, my life, are filled with such mementoes, as well as so many other memories that need no impetus to be recalled. I may not be able to verbalize certain things, but I no longer ask myself “Where did the last 61 years go”………..nowadays I find myself wondering “Where will the next 61 years take me?” ;-)
Posted on: Fri, 21 Nov 2014 07:45:22 +0000
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