Who Am I and Why Am I Here
Oh, that's right. It's no longer Saturday. Guess I'll have to grab a quick shower and find the pair that have "Sunday" playfully printed across the front.
Dinner was a simple salad and an amazingly seasoned pork loin chop via the George Foreman grill. I've decided to make a conscious effort to eat healthier and cut out some of the items that I'm sure have already clogged a few of my arteries. But like they say...you have to start some where.
As I was squatting in the living room...you know the way you squat with your knees in your chest and your butt almost touching the floor but never actually touching...kind of like a human pretzel....it occurred to me that I'm actually 40 years old - the same age my mother was when I graduated from high school. The same age as so many patients I've cared for in the hospital that are suffering from heart disease, end stage renal disease, insulin dependent diabetes and an assortment of other infirmities too depressing to mention.
Life has flown by at what seems like the speed of light.
I always imagined by the time you've lived 40 years some of your childhood memories would have faded. But mine are still crystal clear. I can remember playing for hours on end with my Farrah Fawcett, Wonder Woman and Malibu Barbie like it was yesterday.
Heck, I can still remember the name of every teacher I ever had! My first grade play, girl scout camp, science fairs, becoming a "woman" - oh my God...was my mother the only one that called every one in town to announce that GREAT EVENT....!
I still smell the fresh spring air drifting through my open bedroom window right before it was time to wake up for school. My mother would always have to call me at least 4 or 5 times (I've never been a morning person).
I remember walking home in the freezing cold on Friday nights after the high school football game - only it never really seemed that cold. I guess looking cute for the boys and lots of laughter had a way of warming you from the inside out.
All those wonderful memories packed into one little life - mine. It's almost like watching a great movie...bracing yourself for the scary parts, laughing heartily at the funny moments, crying silently during the not so happy parts....but unlike a great movie that you've seen hundreds of times - you don't know how this story, my story ends.
Did I learn from my mistakes? Will my children be strong productive functional adults? Have I touched someone's life in a constructive way? How long will I be remembered after I'm gone? Did the little things really matter all that much?
Did my being here make a difference?
I guess it's one of those mid-life things. The darkness and quiet that comes with the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon always cause periods of deep reflection for me. I can only hope that who I am and the things I've done while I've been here have been beneficial in some small way.
And if I haven't gotten it all right .....there's always tomorrow!
