Friday, May 21, 2010

To The Place Where Thoughts Escape

Last night in lieu of a night's sleep, I got two half-nights of slumber. Usually I meander off to bed in the 10:00 o'clock hour hoping (usually in vain) to make it all the way to the 11:00 o'clock news and awaken to the alarm clock's ring at 3:00 o'clock (in the ante meridian hours). Last night I deviated from the plan, which typically I hate to do. Much like every good rule, it is the exceptions to it that make it what it is.

At shortly after midnight (which technically falls on the "this morning" vs. "last night" line of demarcation - speaking of which one could, I suppose, make an argument that the New Jersey Nets are the Portugal of professional sports) I was at Newark Airport, picking up Sir Rob of the Rockies - who is home for the weekend to help his big sister celebrate her graduation. He is home this weekend because even though I shall spend next weekend with him in his time zone, I somewhat selfishly wanted him to be home to share this last big festive moment with Suzanne and with Margaret and with Joe....and with me. Money is not a magic elixir. There are countless problems it does not solve and needs it does not address. However, when it comes to getting a loved one from Point A to Point B when the space between the two is rather vast, in my experience there is nothing better. On occasion my sanity is called into question by those who wonder aloud who voluntarily starts each work day in the wee small hours of the morning and works deep into the evening on most days. Today - watching Rob strolling up the jet way at the airport - served as my answer to that question.

Whether irony or coincidence I know not but Wednesday's mail brought a copy of a letter that Rob wrote to himself as part of a senior project in high school. It was a letter written to him by his "five years from now"version of himself. One might wonder why this five-year letter was sent by his Alma mater this week - fast approaching the sixth anniversary of his high school graduation. I know that the question crossed my mind. Setting aside the question of religious arithmetic for a moment, the timing of its arrival was really extraordinary. As part of his letter, "five years up the road Rob" asked how Nanny, Nona and Grandpa Joe were doing and commented that he hoped all of them were doing OK - especially Nona who had just started her battle with breast cancer. What Rob could not have known when he wrote that letter to himself six years ago was that by this point in time Joe would be the only remaining piece of the Trinity.

The older I get, the more I appreciate the rapidity with which life rushes at me and - more often than not - blows right past me. In an eye blink, everything can change. In six years' worth of eye blinks a hell of a lot has. There is nothing to be gained from missing out on a moment - except regret. And who the hell wants more of that to tote around?

For a day at least, Rob is homeward bound. A moment worth not missing.


No comments: