In my life, rarely do I have a close call. I’m calculated. I see all outcomes. Ain’t nothing sneaking up on me.
A broad-winged seagull swooped down for food in the Fred Meyer parking lot just as a goatee’d gentleman punched the gas pedal of his Subaru. The man’s arms suddenly raised as if contesting a bad call from a ref, then pulling up without the food, almost a moment too late, was the gull.
As infrequent as near misses are for me, they once were my norm.
Drunk driving. Unhealthy relationships. Unsafe environments. I naively lowered the limbo bar of my life to rock-bottom heights. Then, contorting my body underneath it, I’d gash and blacken myself only to convince and trick myself I hadn’t. And then do it again.
How delusional I was.
Sumner high school just let out, and it’s a sea of black pant-wearing kids out there. Kids, hm. I’ll reword that to something truer. Young adults. With a few ticks left on the clock until they’re voting, non-dependent age means they’re more like peers than children.
How society, media, and Hollywood pedestalizes the tight-skinned and able-bodied youth is peculiar. The idea that the “prime of your life” or “glory days” only exists in the fountain of youth is false. And it sets a precedent for our lives that damages our mindset and expectations as aging inevitably continues past our twenties.
From what I’ve seen, there’s a big wide world out there, and from exploring its facets and evolutions, there’s no better place to be me in the right now.
Thanks for stopping by!