Three straight nights of crazy dreams were punctuated by another visit from my father but this one was different.
This time he showed up able looking like a cross between the guy I remember and the man he was when I was entering my teen years.
He poked his finger in my chest and pushed me backwards, yelled at me for not taking things seriously. I yelled back at him and for that moment it was like we traveled back in time.
“Covid hasn’t killed me…yet.”
Reminded me of when I wanted to play football in high school and he said he wouldn’t sign the paperwork because I was young dumb and stupid.
“You like the contact too much, you’ll put yourself in situations you ought not be in.”
I told him in the dream that none of that stopped me from doing things anyway.”
“Are you bragging about having been dumb and lucky.”
It was a rough morning, the lack of real sleep during the past few days and feeling dehydrated took a moment to get beyond, but I did.
Almost went back to sleep to dream again so I could tell him two Covid tests said I wasn’t positive and that this wasn’t anything other than the normal crap I get.
But he didn’t leave me a fortune or an empire so I put on clothes, chugged some coffee and went to work.
Humping It Through Hump Day
It took a minute to get things moving even with the coffee and some natural irritation at having to fix problems other people created but I did it.
Ran into a couple of rough spots and a patch of time where I felt like I went from feeling better to ten times worse than I had been feeling.
Not a 100 percent yet but at 90 minutes prior to midnight I feel a significant improvement and have to fight the urge to go the gym and put some time in.
Told the younger Mr. Wilner I am jealous of some of the things he can do that I can’t quite make happen anymore.
He scrunched his face and I laughed and said not to worry about it, “I am so proud of you” and he smiled and walked off.
And me, well I thought about all of the mileage on this body and how we wouldn’t understand what I meant if I said I want that 23 year-old body any more than I would have at his age.
You don’t appreciate it and that is ok. Hard to appreciate feeling invincible. I still mostly feel like I am but am cognizant some crap takes longer to heal and or snap back into place so I have adjusted.
Write about it enough that I sometimes wonder if I am fooling myself or if the writing really does provide acceptance and a tool for easing into almost middle age.
Got some cards and postage for said cards sent to me today and laughed thinking about few of the recipients will have a clue if the penmanship is my own.
I am not sure if my children really recognize it. I am sure if you read the words they would recognize my writing and my voice but my penmanship, well that is not clear to me.
I keep meaning to ask them but I keep forgetting. Ought to make a note of it.
My number one fan says they can always recognize my writing and says they have a pretty good idea of whether I am writing about things that really happened or making it up.
I go back and forth about whether I like that or not. There is something nice about someone being able to see you and recognize you for who you are.
But as a writer there is a piece of me that wants to be able to produce other voices so skillfully that I am not immediately recognized.
It is an interesting challenge that I sometimes play around with taking on because it provides a way to test and measure my abilities.
One of the things I love about writing is that it is not dependent upon your body and it is ability to run, lift or jump. It is something that isn’t tied to the physical so unlike most sports you don’t age out of it physically.
You can continue to improve your skills over a lifetime and that is something that is pretty damn cool.
In case you missed the last few posts here are some links to check out.
- Maybe Dad Knows Things
- A Question Of Dignity
- You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone
- Your Mother Knows About Us
- We’ll Do It Again & Sooner Than You Think