I prefer to write in the morning. As the day goes on my mind fills with the minutia of work, bills, life and it seems to make the mind somewhat numb. The best time to write is when I awake in the middle of the night, around 2-3 AM. There is an energy in the air, the sound of silence rings in my ears and it is as though I’ve stepped into an alternate, parallel world to the one I live in during the day. I do not often awake at 2 AM however so the next best thing is to write in the morning when I have my deepest thoughts.
It was an extremely busy morning and I worked like a banshee until now with only a few minutes to stuff a salad in my mouth. Luckily I made a few notes before my thoughts evaporated as the sun climbed higher into the sky.
When we are young it seems that happiness and excitement come very easily. Going to the pool during a hot day, ordering a pizza from the concession stand, taking a nap after becoming utterly exhausted from all the play are things that brought me much happiness. Now that I’m 38 the excitement and happiness are much more muted. I would very much like to rediscover this joy of my childhood .
I think one of the main reasons is that as we get older we develop set routines that can run for years at a time. We are breathing the same breath over and over again as Thoreau says in Walden. The quote that we should gather experiences instead of material items is recommended as good advice and those that actively try to enjoy life are applauded.
It cannot be said that I haven’t tried many new things but I’d just like to record with this post that the euphoria and excitement I once felt as a boy are an infrequent visitors here at 38 years of age and I wonder if these feelings will ever return?
My mind doesn’t help with this task either. We all run simulations in our head of how a new experience, or trip, might be and if we would enjoy it or not. Unfortunately, when I run these simulations in my head I tend towards the negative such as it being a hassle, or something that takes too much effort. It is at these times I need to realize that my thoughts are wrong and to go ahead with it. Having two kids does add quite a bit of work and it is more of a hassle since the amount of stuff one must prepare for any outing is substantial, but in the end the memories it brings are priceless. I already miss the baby/toddler days of my oldest boy and it saddens me greatly to think that those times are gone forever.
I must snap out of it and really appreciate everyday, every moment. But it is impossible to remain in such an appreciative state for more than a few moments. Life continues on and our brains return to autopilot.
My youngest is still a baby but he too is growing up too quickly. He changes his behaviors on a week to week basis with his latest trick being that he points to where he wants to go. I hold him and he has me running all over the place, to the fish tank, to that purple thing on the table, to Mom – pointing all the way as though I’m an incompetent cab driver.
I think back to when he was first born and the children in the nursery. This is a bit off track but I don’t care, its my journal. I never wanted to put my kids in the nursery at the hospital after they were first born. They do have a nice room and the nurses do a good job so Mom and Dad can have a little break. But my question is why the hell would Dad need a break, he didn’t do anything, well nothing that requires a great amount of effort anyway! Sure, I was a little sleep deprived but who cares, not when I’ve got a brand new life changing present to hold! The thought of leaving my newborn boys in a nursery even for a few moments horrified me. It’s not exactly comfortable with the lights on all the time and the certainty that at least one or two kids will be crying. How could a newborn, or anyone for that matter, get any rest!?
So whenever the nurses came in and had to take my babies, I went along and wasn’t going to let them out of my sight.
But I do remember one baby who I felt very sorry for. His name was Thomas and he was born around August 15th 2014. He had a cleft lip and I gathered that his father was no longer around and he had a mother that needed a lot of help. I heard one of the nurses mention needing a social worker and that “someone needs to feed that baby.” I cannot be absolutely sure but I believe they were speaking about Thomas’s situation. Now that my #2 is almost a year old I wonder what happened to Thomas and where he is now. Lying there as a baby he was so innocent, ready to start life in this brand new world, with the only requirement being love, which he may not have received. To think about this makes me feel very sad. I think of Thomas from time to time and it hardens my belief that if there is a God, he pays absolutely no attention to us.
At 38 I see many of my old acquaintances becoming more religious, certainly more-so than they ever were in their 20s. The reason this is happening is because they were born into it and now that they are getting older they feel they should set a good example for their children; they are mirroring their own parents. But to tell a secret, blithely throwing religion around on the social networks, or any type of missionary activity really, annoys me to no end, especially when I think of poor Thomas. Of course I do not engage in religious debates, not unless they actually have a deep knowledge of the historical facts, have traveled and read a book or two outside their own belief systems that again, 99% were born into. So I write it here, I get it off my chest.
I cannot imagine what Thomas has been through his first year. Most likely endless crying without being consoled, visits from social workers, perhaps even removal from a time from his own mother. And where can we place the blame on the mother, who more than likely went through the same experience herself as an infant? Children grow up, become parents and mirror their own parents for the most part.
If I linger on the thought for too long I become angry. “Jesus/God/Allah loves everyone.” Yea, a bunch of nonsense as they apparently paid no attention to Thomas from the moment he was born; oddly enough God helped Mr. Curry put the basketball in the basket many times the following year! Religion is fantasy land and make believe for adults, now how do I make a hands clasped emote?
