A Letter From Self

I guess my question to you is where did the time go?
Where has the time gone and when did everything change?
How did we go from this to that or that to this?
I don’t know. . .
Or is this all too vague to ask you while heading to work in the morning on a westbound train?

I know.
Early to bed, early to ruse is supposed to make a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.
I do not feel any of the above at the moment.

I am not sure how the world around us can slip through my fingers like the finest sand from an hourglass or from a certain beach that I hold in my heart.
I can grip as tight as I want to but the sands of time keep slipping through my fingers, when, in fact; all I want is to enjoy another minute longer.
Another hug.
Another kiss.
Another moment to dance or sing or walk beneath the stars.
I have heard about the magic in the moon over Miami.
But the moon looks amazing in other places too.
But for now, I am here.
I am facing west at the moment and leaning my head against a Plexiglass window on a train. This is nothing new to me and all of this is nothing more than a common routine for me now.
Welcome to everyday life.
We sleep. We work.
We play when we can but in the end, everything costs money
Everything costs something.
Everything.

I am thinking about the so-called golden parachute. I am thinking about my retirement plan or AKA: my annuity fund and my pension plan.
I am thinking about how the markets and divorce have taken chunks of this away from me.
But such is life, I suppose.
And so it goes.
(and you’re the only one who knows, sings Billy Joel)

This is the life of me, a working man, and you and all of your king’s horses and all of your king’s men could not put me back together again,
I get that.
I am a mess. I am left in pieces and my parts do not seem to fit back together again.

I get the fact that everyone has their own trips around the sun.
I understand that no two things are exactly alike and so, “here I am world!”
I am drowning in thin air and heading to work with a pre-made lunch that I keep in the community fridge, which sits in a room that I call my shop.
My collar is blue.
I have tools.
I have work to do.

I have a few gripes and a few bones to pick with some of the people I supposedly work with.
At the same time, work is work, life is life, bills are bills and before we know it, spring turns into summertime and summer will become autumn and the leaves will change and winter will come back again this year.
Everything moves in cycles and stages and as for me; I am growing older and gaining less ground than when I wore the grin of a much younger soul.

I have different fantasies of telling people my thoughts and opinions. I have my exit strategy all planned and rehearsed and even more, I have rehearsed my goodbyes to the supervisors at my job site.
Some would receive a warm farewell. Some would hear my thoughts and depending upon the mood or the emotions at hand; I have often fantasized of showing them the size of my middle finger. Both of them, to be exact.
But life is not meant for revenge or resentment and nor is this conducive to a better work life or career; however, I do enjoy the ideas of pressing send to pass along the greatest “fuck you,” email of all time.

I am far older than I ever thought I would be.
And I wonder does this make sense to you?
I am older than I ever imagined. I am older now than ever before and tomorrow will lead me to be older than I am today.

But again, where has all the time gone?
What happened?
I often feel like I was sleeping in the middle of a long movie, which is actually my life, and I somehow missed the plot and woke up in the middle of the next scene with too much action but I am confused about the characters around me.

It happens all too much. You and I forget to look at the sky or see the birds or watch the clouds and notice the sunset.
We run into ourselves at the door because something is always happening and something is always moving, and yes, of course; the world is composed of a trillion moving parts.
Everything is moving much faster than we think.

Maybe soon . . .
Maybe you and I need to walk the beach. Maybe you and I need to sit at the shrine at the church at Point Lookout and say our friendly hellos to The Holy One, Herself.
Holy Mary, Mother of God.
Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death
(amen.)

I cannot keep up with the bills lately. I cannot keep up with the list of events or the way things are breaking or falling apart.

I think I need to find some time to gain some kind of peace and rest or relaxation.

I think I need some time in the sun.
I need to feel the warmth on my face and hear the sound of the waves, the seagulls flying overhead, and smell the scent of some suntan lotion. 
This turns me on, if I’m being honest.

I think I could use an Italian Ice while sitting on a blanket in the sand, maybe lemon flavored or rainbow flavored.
Either one would be fine with me.

Where has the time gone?
I don’t know.
But maybe this is a sign that you and I need to make time to improve because time is always moving and at the moment, I need some more time

With you . . .