Might be used in a piece of fiction
Turned on some music and debated whether I’d write about closing up shop and realized any day now it is going to be seven full years since the president of the fan club and I met at the old clubhouse. It was one of those ‘let’s get to know each other in the biblical sense in the bible belt.
She told me she was unhappy because she hadn’t realized that her trip to some place on the Shire Road was going to take a full weekend away from us and I shrugged my shoulders.
Told me one more time I was in trouble for not finding her sooner and for good measure said I ought to have worked harder to get her to tear down the wall she had erected.
“Don’t think I don’t know that you will tell me exactly how things are going to be until you change your mind and then you’ll tell me I was wrong not to have read your mind.”
She rolled her eyes and giggled.
“Guess that means you’re still my girl.”
“I’ll always be your girl.”
“That’s what you say today, until I have to convince you again.”
The Treadmill
Took two business calls while walking on the treadmill and then put another 60 minutes in later and my body is starting to let me know it is unhappy with me.
Don’t know if I am going to be able to temper my approach this time around because there is something in the air that is pushing me.
Something that has my attention and hasn’t let go of it.
It is almost as if I hear the tick-tock of a clock and a doc telling me I better make things happen soon or other things are going to happen.
And it is all I can do not to climb on it again and do some more tonight, but I won’t.
Not yet, not now.
If I pull back on the reins just a little I can give myself time to work up to being able to do more of what I want and good things will happen.
If I focus just a little it won’t be long before I need to adjust my belt and my clothes will begin to fit as I want them to. I can already see some changes, just need to push a little longer and a little harder.
I Am Not Ready
I keep hearing Gary say “I am not ready” in one breath and then in another say he is and it is ping-ponging in my head.
Because I can hear Dad talking to me and it brings it back as if it was yesterday.
I can hear him talking as bluntly as he ever did and remember recognizing the exhaustion in his voice. I never asked him if he was ready though I was never afraid to because it seemed it would make it go faster.
The closest we came was his telling me he would be around as long as he would be around.
Kind of reminded me of my paternal grandfather telling me he would punch the angel of death in the throat.
“When the time comes you’ll be ready because there won’t be any other choice. Life is rough all over.”
Didn’t have to be prompted to tell him we can only plan the hand we’re dealt or to ask him what happened if I flipped the table over.
“You can be angry on your own time, that is ok, but that is your business.”
I knew what he meant and followed his wishes. Won’t lie and say I haven’t had moments where I was ready to do otherwise, but what is the point.
Seven damn years later, how did that happen.
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