Sunday, December 13, 2009

The Way Back


Don't pay attention for a moment. Then two. You are too tired, too stressed. There is always too much to do. And then. . . it slips away. In a panic, you want it back. Next time, you say, I will be better. I will pay attention then.

But there is no going back, no re-dos. It doesn't matter who tells you, though, you can not help but let it slip away.

* * * * *

Driving back from the university to the place where I'd grown up, I was tethered on two ends. One hundred miles, that was all, and all the difference. Funny, though, how the drive always seemed to be uphill going back home. I drove through farmland and ranches, pretty countryside I always wanted to pause in, always wishing to stop the car and find out what there was off the interstate. And always, I drove on.

Christmas would be interesting, I thought. I've been away and now there was the coming home. I would see people I'd not seen in months. I'd have stories to tell. I was a success. And I'd see my father and tell him stories and I would visit my mother. And I would see Sherri and her family and we'd all eat and laugh and watch TV.

How it had happened, I wasn't sure, but it had happened and I was happy.

4 comments:

  1. you're right...there's no stopping the 'slipping away' but somehow I keep trying anyway...

    I'm glad the narrative is back!

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  2. damn, thought you might STILL be in college:)

    Keep'em coming
    d

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  3. R, I think, though, that there is a way to keep them, but that is where I fail too often. As James Salter says, "The one who writes it, keeps it." Photos, too.

    D, I'll try.

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