June 1. It actually is my birthday.
56. How the hell did I get to this age? I was 35 last week, I swear. And 25 the week before.
Did you ever read “A Wrinkle in Time”?
One of the best sci fi books ever written. Scared the hell out of me. However, there was a concept in it that the scientist parents were investigating when the father disappeared: the tesseract (not to be confused with the first Infinity Stone of the same name in the Marvel Universe. For that, you need Thor. And Loki), whereby one can “fold” time like bringing one side of a sheet of paper to the other (thus the titular Wrinkle) and stepping across.
I think that’s what has happened to me. Oh, I know I’ve lived the past thirty plus years. Got the scars to prove it. It just feels like it was the 1980s last year. Like I was working in the Mutual Funds Customer Service department at Fidelity Investments in downtown Boston. If I hear “Here Comes the Rain Again” by the Eurythmics, it takes me back to the flower stand on the corner of Milk and Washington, in front of the Old South Meeting House (from which the Boston Tea Party was launched. Read “Johnny Tremain.”).
Maybe if I’d had my own family, I’d have a better grip on the passage of time. I didn’t. I’m not a big fan of children and I never met anyone I felt I could trust closely enough for an long-term intimate relationship. Saw quite a few go bust in an ugly fashion. I didn’t want that. Had too many people who were supposed to have my back turn out to be the last people I could rely on.
So here I am.
Unlike some previous years, I have friends around me, geographically speaking. I will be going to see “Wonder Woman” tomorrow night and eating AMC’s mozzarella sticks after a day’s work. I will be doing other things as well. But how I spend the day isn’t the big issue.
That’s on the far edge of middle-aged. I have never visualized myself at this stage of life let alone the one that comes next. Why am I really here? Will I finally find enough success as an author that I don’t have to rely on the day job? Am I going to be financially secure enough to retire? When will I die and how? (Yeah, I think about that. It’s inevitable. We’re all mortal)
What’s next? Only God knows, and He ain’t tellin’.
PS: Go buy my books.