Monday, July 30, 2012


I stare at the ceiling, at the patterns and shadows, and I cannot pretend to know what happens next.

This journey that I'm on comes with plenty of twists — great gulps of optimism, equally big helpings of pessimism. If not for the stroke I would have probably piled it in by now. This version of Ron is stronger. I wish he would have been around last fall and winter; he could have kicked some righteous ass. He could have found the right words.

Ni modo. Any way you look at it, a trade-off was required; the universe insisted on some form of payment to get me here. So: a stroke, a dark muse, a radical shift in the way I'm forced to look at life. In return, a guy who's better and stronger, a guy who knows he's good and decent, a guy who believes he's worth it.

All in all, I'd rather have skipped the stroke and tumultuous muse part, but whatever. In a few years, maybe, I'll look back on this part of my life and smile. Maybe Brazil in Summer 2016. Depends on the company.

Regardless, between now and then I have one goal in life: keep precious the peace I've found. Only through that sort of grace will I ever be able to emerge from the shadows of the past year. It feels like a crazy dream, almost. And truth: despite everything I did to turn my world upside down, I don't want the dream to end. I don't want to wake up.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

It wasn't a dream. Baby steps, Red.