Thursday, October 27, 2016

Lost and Running 'Neath A Million Dead Stars...

Today is Margaret's birthday.  I shall not reveal her age here - although Margaret is no unaffected by the thought of getting older that by 1:30 pm today she will no doubt have already started to refer to herself as being "almost" next year's age.  Suffice it to say that as of today, my wife is just three years removed from the day on which she shall be as old (in years) as she is tall (in inches).  

I am an unrepentant asshole, which I say not out of any sense of faux self-effacement but, rather, out of a sense of accurate self-assessment.  I offer no apology for it.  I am my father's son.  It was my father after all who said one of the truest things anyone has ever said to me when he told me, "Life is not a popularity contest.  And if it is, we're not winning."  It is a mantra by which I live my life.   

Margaret has always been, is presently, and shall forever be the great mystery of my life.  I will be fifty in February.  Margaret and I have been together for more than half of my life and given my pronounced lack of curb appeal, I remain at a loss as to what is in this for her.  While I am an asshole, I am not an imbecile.  I learned long ago that the old saw about there being no such thing as a stupid question is a lie.  The world is chock full of stupid questions and people who do not know well enough to not ask them.  I am not among their number.  

Much to my wife's great embarrassment, I make no bones about the fact that she is not only the great love of my life but is the one who saved my life.  As a young man in his early 20's, I had little interest in anything other than consuming however much alcohol was necessary to make whatever fucking day it was tolerable enough so that I could both begin it and finish it.  It was what it was.  The life I was then living was the life I had chosen for myself.  No self-created drama.  No self-pity.  Not then.  And certainly, not now. 

Suzanne and Rob are both adults now, with their own lives in their own homes.  When they were kids, I preached to them to the point of ear-blindness about the importance of finding peace.  I know of which I speak.  Among my wife's great many gifts and the innumerable, important roles she has played in my life for a quarter-century, none is more important than her being my source of peace. 

Every day for the past twenty-five-plus years, through her presence she has reminded me of the difference between living and merely being alive.  

May today, and every day, be everything she wants it to be.  May she be happy.  She deserves nothing less.  



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