He was there the day I was born. I wasn’t able to see him but I could feel his presents. Come to think of it, I actually don’t know of a time when I wasn’t aware of him even if only in the background of my life, occasionally blocking the tracks I was screaming down in a near head on collision. There was no escaping him, like hiding in a closet or anything. There are those you can’t really hide from, no matter what, and he has always been one of them.
It was hard to grow up in the 60’s and 70’s without becoming overly immersed in the culture. There was a lot going on back then and hundreds of ways to get lost, drop out, anything but join the establishment. I really tried though, because it seamed to be the thing to do. As if there was a threat of losing ones only chance of becoming something out of the ordinary if a rash decision wasn’t made. None of this weighing the pros and cons for us. The time to act recklessly was growing short, adulthood was just around the corner. Action needed to take place immediately.
I’d almost made the decision to go for it, stick my thumb out and hitch a ride with the next VW bus heading to California. As long as it had flower power painted on the sides and exhaust spewing out the back, it would be fine with me. Specifically, my dream ride would be heading to San Francisco where they were required by law to wear flowers in their hair and smoke pot.
But then he’d make an appearance and without so much as a word, enter my heart and turn it around. Why couldn’t he let me be? I wanted to screw up like the best of em. I wanted to have memories of meaningful protests and free spirited travels. I wanted to meet others who’s theme song was Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. What was so wrong with that?
But then I’d wake in the night and his eyes would say, “What in the world is wrong with you? What are you thinking?” Oh, well… funny you should bring that up. I’m not.
It’s been an on-going training session between the two of us. I venture out there, look around, think it might be interesting to walk in a different direction for a while. But I can always feel his eyes on me. Not condemning, not judging. Just loving eyes letting me know he’ll always be there, watching out for me, reminding me of his love. Ignoring my plea to be ignored.
The sigh stems from the bottoms of my toes and travels all through my being. “Fine,” I resign. “As always, you are right.” I smile and feel content. No one that counts, will think less of me for thinking twice, changing my mind, reconsidering. He won’t accuse me of chickening out or say I’m a coward.
This much I know; I’ll never be alone, never forgotten, never left to muddle my way through this life alone.
You’d think by now I wouldn’t need him. But it’s just the opposite. The little herb garden we started with has expanded to an all out working farm producing more than one person should keep for themselves. So, as is his desire, I revel in the abundance of his love and pass the overflow around wherever he directs me to. It’s not hard to do and I realize it’s part of my purpose. I’ll also acknowledge that following his lead makes life a lot easier. As I’ve gotten older, easier has gotten very attractive.
I guess I’m sort of glad he’s ignored my plea to be ignored, after all.
Later,
Mary Ann
