Last night, cell phone in hand, I scrolled through the last six months of events in my children’s lives while waiting for my oldest son to come home. A normal activity, right? Yet there was this sadness present, and at this point in my life, I am turning on a heel and facing it. Why am I melancholy?
The reality hit me. Although photos held documentation of a happy life, it was a life only viewed as such after it had already safely happened. However, when those events occurred in real-time, I could not enjoy them, because of the wispy presence of fear…fear of accidents and death, of no money, of work not yet completed, of not fitting into my jeans…the list could go on. Most of the time I don’t even know what it is, but like perturbation in astronomy, where an object’s orbit is altered by either a seen or hidden object, my life shifts and the implicit joy is dulled to a sepia tone.
It was clear to me. I have to face this guy, fear, and how he has been such a thief of my beautiful moments. I still feel him right now…we have monetary dysfunctions and although we have never not had them, I still let such thoughts frost bite my sweet oranges.
But maybe not today.