I woke up in the morning. The gravity was inconsequential. I stepped out onto the porch and looked off into the distance and I owned the land as far as I could see. It was mine and it always would be mine. I went out and navigated my day. I saw it but did not see it. All of the people around me were dealing with challenges and realities that were different from mine. They were not the same.
The advice of the previous generation was offered heavily and I did not understand why they thought they needed to give it. I was different and they could not see it. Walking down the road confidently I would suddenly hear a man speaking. His words spiked doom inside me because I knew that he used to own the land I now called my own.
Photo by Ashlee Brown on Unsplash
As time passed, I met more of these travelers frequently. I learned to respect them. I also realized that I had been seeing them all along. They had been in my life all along, but I was tuned into an arrogant frequency. The foolishness of youth supported my ignorance.
I remember running the annual Army Physical Training test every October down at Morningside. My defiance was so blatant that I actually carried a cigarette and lighter one year so I could run across the finish line, smoking. Mortal stupidity wished to rub in the faces of those who were further down the road of life from me that I could be an idiot. No matter what I thought, I could do nothing to force them to accept my self-inflicted lie.
I woke up this morning, and the gravity was much heavier. I slowly walked out onto the porch and looked out over the railing and I could only see a couple of feet over it. Even that would be gone soon unless I took drastic measures. The fact is, I was warned about this, and I was not listening.