written thought: my path

 

1)

The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.
Or so they say.
The line or path that I have followed throughout my life has been anything but straight.

My path has twisted and turned. It has swerved unexpectedly, and sometimes, my path has led me to a dead-end.
Leaving me no other choice than to turn around and try again.

 My path has painfully gone uphill on some occasions and downhill in others. Throughout my travels, I have made my share of wrong turns.
There are many times I wondered what my life would have been like had I decided to walk away when I had the chance, or  what would have happened if I turned right instead of left.

My friend tells me, “If that happened, then you wouldn’t be you.”

I guess he’s right . . .

2)

They say, “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
I say strength is relative.
I say I have died in tiny pieces several times.
I have died more times than I can count.
I have died from heartbreak.
I have died from rage and I have died in disappointment.

However, there are different kinds of death, in which,
I suppose my strength comes from the fact that although I died in some ways; I was reborn in others. 

And this is where strength comes from.

It was a cold morning. I woke up and the sun had already made
its way through the  curtains in my living room.
The house was quiet and the rooms were all empty
but the furniture remained as it was.
The Old Man’s jacket hung on a coat hook. It hung exactly as it did
before he went into the hospital.

His keys were in the same spot on his dresser drawers.
His glasses were in the same place as they always were
The Old Man had a nightshirt that hung near the closet in his bedroom.
My mother left everything exactly as he left it.

I could feel him in the room. 
I could smell him on his jacket.
I could almost hear his voice—and see his face
but I could not touch him.

One of the last things The Old Man said to me was,
“I’m going to need you to be strong.”
How could I be strong when I felt like a piece of me was dying?
And when he passed; a piece of me passed as well.

“I’m going to need you to be strong,” he said.
I curled my lip to fight back the tears.
I nodded the way wounded soldier would nod to his commander
Inside, however, I wept like a boy about to lose his father

I was reborn that day
I was not reborn in the religious sense.
I was not reentered into the world.
True, a piece of me died
but the piece which died
is responsible for the remainder of me which lives.

3)

My path in life has been anything but direct.
I have seen different parts of my great city.
I have seen it at its worst and at its best.

I have seen the sidewalks in Alphabet City
I have passed the brownstones
waited on corners
and I have survived places like
Willis Avenue and 134th Street
or 116th and Park.

I have breathed the cold, nighttime air
while standing high above the buildings in Manhattan.
I have watched my breath smoke while the lights of New York City glimmered. I have watched the downtown bridges reach across the East River and I have seen the full moon from a rooftop on the Eastside at 45th Street.

I have watched the sun go down, only to see it rise again.
I have suffered through losses and balanced them with victories

I have made it through good times and bad.
I am unsure if this has made me stronger or not—but a least I made it. I made it when others said I couldn’t.

I never gave in . . .

even when I wanted to.

4)

I hear people ask, “Why do things like this always happen to me?”
Meanwhile, they are unaware of their own irony.
They are unaware of their own contributions to their failures or heartache.

They say, “Insanity is repeating the same behavior while expecting different results.”

I hear people ask, “Why do things like this always happen to me?”
Meanwhile, they repeat the same behavior . . .
which only volunteers them for the same results.

5)

The path I took to get me where I am has been all but straight.
I have made my share of wrong turns.
I have made poor choices.
I have fallen.
I’ve tripped over the same mistakes.
I’ve gone down the wrong path more than once.

But wherever I have been in my life
and whatever I have gone through
has turned me into who I am now.

6)
 
The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.
Or so they say.
My line or path has been anything but straight.

A man working a security job told me,
“Nice guys finish last.”

I wonder if this is because nice guys don’t need to race?