Not awake.

.
.
Not asleep.  A horrible place between the two.  Unsure how to resolve it.

A song from, possibly, before my time.  A radio and young ear have no way to account for anomalies of those sorts.  The song bothered me.  Promises.  I would not go down that road of regret.  Every rare time I would hear it, I'd recall the promises, redouble efforts.  So, as I heard it for the first time in decades, I had to think.

How was it that I got here?  To be fair, if a humble place, it wasn't a choice nor strings of choices, but failed health, that has me here.  And, every day is an opportunity to do better, more, or simply attempt to enjoy another if lost chance, even if in suffering.  I suspect I serve God by struggling on.

It... to some degree, wouldn't matter.  We will all end in a spooky place, many of us alone.  At some point in bad shape.  There is no right way to avoid it.  We will struggle. The more the older, sicker.  And, yet, I am... pleased?  Yes, I am.  Perfectly?  Only with room for delicious regret, true contrite understanding, and forgiveness in my heart.

I have done a few grand things, some of them wonderfully bone-headed.  I have loved as well as I knew how.  I never quit loving, even having lost.  As to regrets, more than I can count.  Some are for the confessional, some are just mine.  It was as much as I could do.  More than many would do, or some could do.

Perhaps, too, it is time to stop talking about me.  If I would like to remember her.





If I thought... I just might.  Just... not as a mere taste.

Real or nil.  The sum of what I have learned.