At 38-years-old, I find myself standing in a moment of time. Knocking on the door of a mid-life crisis, I am wrestling with my mortality. In a rush of emotion, this life feels so fleeting and finite. As a child, I felt as if I might live forever. Now, my days feel numbered and the turning of each calendar page feels terrifying.
In a moment of quiet reflection, I found myself willing to silence the doom and gloom. I may be arriving near the middle of my string, but with a little luck, this ball of yarn will hold an unthinkable stretch for me to pull.
In the rearview mirror of this moment, I recognize inflection points. These are moments when everything changed. Some were small, like my assigned third grade teacher. Others were monumental, like the death of my youngest brother. I am doing my best to pause and reflect on these moments. Some created knots in my string. Some laid me threadbare. Others doubled themselves over, strengthening me, and others interrupted the straight and decided path of my life, sending me in new directions. In reflection, I am thinking of these moments with a silent prayer on my lips. I hope I harnessed the gift each presented me to the best of my ability.
Without a doubt, there were mistakes made along the way. These were moments when my selfishness or shortsightedness fouled up the trajectory of my life. These are moments I regret. I regret not calling Lucas more often. I wish I could have been more honest with Melody. I miss my dad and I hope he knows how much I loved him. Despite these regrets, I am grateful for their gifts. These moments have taught me a lot. These moments made me a better person, and I can't regret that.
Steadying myself, I try not to dwell on the moments of personal failure for too long. I remind myself that I am a good person. Good people fail. When they do, they work to fix things to the best of their ability.
My life has been defined by moments when everything changed. These moments guide me, but they have also drawn a string that is anything but dull or predictable. I love these moments in time, because they are me.
Looking at the string before me, I have no way of knowing how much remains. If given the choice, I don’t think I would choose to know the day the string is cut short or the manner of the end. There will be more defining moments, knots, bows, and detours. The unknown journey draws me forward with more power than the unknowns of death ever could. So, I will keep pulling, measuring, and pausing with my string; it is but a measure of a moment in time.
Be good to each other,
Nathan
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