I Am Already Gone

Doc says my liver looks alright or rather his nurse says the blood work looks fine and to come back in a year.

A noon run to the gym during my lunch hour provides a better environment so I blow through the place like a fast moving storm.

Guy asks if he can work in a set on the machine I am wiping down and I nod, “I am already gone.”

That is how I feel about so many things, “I am already gone.”

Too old, too tired, too cranky to put up with what I don’t feel like so wherever possible I let go of it.

Sometimes I just walk out without saying goodbye or offering any sort of explanation because I don’t have time for it. Not much that I am willing to chase these days and those who have had years to figure it out probably won’t be surprised when all that is left of my presence is an echo.

Got a list of things to do and an invisible map I am following that is based upon instinct as much as anything else.

Sometimes makes me a bit nervous but whenever I take stock I see a list of success and objectives that have been completed and that provides comfort.

There is much more to be done, but progress is progress.

Telephone Calls & Email

Younger man says my usage of telephone calls and email as forms of communication make me an older guy but doesn’t understand why I don’t care.

That is ok because I don’t understand why it matters to him, why some of the kids wear pajama pants to the gym or a million other things.

Some of what lies upon that list of million things is important to me. I have an active mind and interest in keeping it working well so might as well keep learning.

Some of it is academic and some of it is based upon other things, sparks if you will.

Some of those sparks come from words, music and or other forms of art.

Others come from things as mundane as feeling an arm against mine and smells that make my nostrils flare and bring up memories from the depths.

Rolled into one of the few delis round these parts to grab some items for a meeting and a different set of smells got my synapses firing.

Looked at the table Dad and I sat at and remembered the last meal we shared before his cancer diagnosis. Even then I knew something was off but wasn’t quite sure what.

Part of what jumps out at me is that meal reminded me of when I was little and he would take me to work with him.

Sometimes we would take the lunches mom packed for us and sometimes he would take me out to eat around downtown or some taco stand in East L.A.

We hit places where we were the only white people around. Some of those moments stick out because when you’re seven your father is a giant figuratively and literally.

I don’t have to close my eyes to remember feeling that giant hand upon my shoulder as he would sometimes move me out of the way of whatever he saw coming towards us.

Back at the deli he was slow to rise and I helped him up as he slipped. Some remnants of the kreplach and matza bowl swirling in the bowl as the table shook.

One of the reasons I have gotten into dead lifting and some other specific exercises is so that I can always move myself from one place to another.

Dad’s arm strength never did leave him, but his legs were a different story. Guy had big calves that looked like he worked on them though he never did.

Mine are similar, but I learned from what I saw.

Let’s Have That Conversation

Taught the kids to do their best not to paint themselves into corners and to have the ability to pivot. It is not particularly profound but it is particularly important.

Also taught them to figure out what is so important you cannot pivot because you need to see it through.

Sometimes you have to say let’s have that conversation because there is as much risk in having it as in not having it.

Got a pretty good feeling for no reason other than just because that some pretty interesting things will be coming down the pike.

Follow your heart, listen to your soul and keep pushing forward.