The day comes and goes with little notice. Looking back over the week I can remember maybe one thing that happened. One thing that sticks out. Looking back over the past month, I can only remember a handful of events that stick out, jagged against the currents of life. The past year? Even less things stick out. Memories are being created, but over time things fade. Its funny that way. How I stress and worry about the stupid little things, and when its all said and done? Nothing is remembered. Except, perhaps, the areas that could have some work done.
Memories lumped together, making one long list of ideas called life. Compared against others lives, it fades in comparison.
But sometimes, I don’t. And those are the times that stick out to me the most. The times I didn’t try, FAILED opportunities, the what could have beens that live so close to my heart these days. The I didn’t give it enough, I could have given more moments.
I try to keep up with dishes. Laundry. And baths.
But then someone asks “When did he have a bath last?” And just by looking at him I could tell you “Its been a while.” I sometimes think its best. And sometimes, I just know its one more way I have failed.
I loose my cool, yell too much, don’t have enough patience, and more often it seems I am giving into their wants just to buy a moment of peace. Which doesn’t pay out in the long run. They arent little anymore. I cant argue with things like “Santa sees you” or “Get in bed before the monster eats you.” Things that I swore I would never say, coming out of my mouth, now being scoffed at by little adults.
Looking at them, I wonder. Will they make it? Will they make it to that part of life where I can finally breath? Something tells me no. That I will always worry and come up short. But maybe someday, I hope, they will be off making their own decisions without me holding them back with unwarranted worries that don’t exist.
A deep breath. Another day. The constant wonder of not knowing if this is enough. Bed time being pushed further and further ahead. Making the waking up hour harder, and the days longer. Everyday, I wake up. And I close my eyes just a few more minutes while trying to prepare myself for the day ahead. But nothing can ever prepare you for the unknown.
I look at my life, and I look at others. I wonder who I am, and who I will be. And then I realize that who I am really doesn’t matter. What matters is them. And I have to keep trying, even though sometimes it seems so pointless. Because they deserve a shot atleast. They deserve so much more, and I cant give them that if I sit here feeling sorry for myself and what I don’t have.
The morning sun comes in, and once again I box up the self doubts and who I could have been and put them aside. I pull him out of bed, getting slapped harder each and every morning by a kid who is no longer so little…Watching him struggle seems to be a personal reflection. So much I can relate with him, he is inside out. His insides plastered all over his out. Watching him react outwardly, knowing exactly how hes feeling because deep down inside…that’s how I react to. Its just covered by layers of skin and years of practice.
I hear stories. I close my eyes and see things that I don’t want to see. I see car accidents, I hear phones ringing, the day she doesn’t come home. The famous words of people before me ringing true in my ear, and suddenly I sit up. Thankful that for just one more day, it was just a dream. A sick dream being played out in my mind. I remind her, once again, not to accept rides from anyone, while she once again, rolls her eyes and tells me that she wouldnt HAVE to if I let her get her license. But agrees, atleast for one more day, not to get a ride from anyone. She mumbles something under her breath that I don’t hear, and don’t want to hear.
And once again, the day has started…
And then it ends. And I once again am left with the thoughts of what could have been done differently. Memories? I think its just one more thing to add to the list of failure.
Day in, and day out.
And I try again. But do I really?