Nothing will ever be like the family gatherings from when I was a kid.
Nothing will ever be like it was and I know this. But still, maybe there’s not supposed to be anything like this. Maybe this is what keeps our memories perfect and special.

I know that times were different. I know that there was this thing that happened in a pre-pandemic life where people actually gathered together and communicated on a face to face basis. There was a time when people actually talked and this wasn’t just through texts or emails. 
To me, I’m grateful to say that mine was a generation before technology blew up into what it is today.

I have news for you, which should not come as a shock at all, but still, this needs to be placed here as a reminder.
This is really nothing more than a simple fact.
Life will always keep moving. We know this.
But more than saying, “Hey, that’s just life.”
Right?
“That’s how life goes.”
Either way, I want to place this here, in trust with you, so that when the future eventually comes, perhaps you’ll understand more about us. Or if anything, maybe you’ll see me differently.

I turned 50 this year . . .
It’s not been the coolest thing ever. I’ve had to face some new medical challenges.
I’m on medication. I have to watch what I eat now.
I have to take my blood pressure.
I have to monitor my exercise and watch my stress levels which is funny to me because I have lived with stress and/or anxiety throughout my entire life. Only, age came along and pulled a trick or two. I’m not as young as I used to be.
I have to pay attention is what my doctor told me.
“You’re 50 now . . .”

The following is a personal service announcement. I know the usual catch phrase would be that this is a public service announcement. But this isn’t really public. No, this is certainly personal.
This is a moment of awakening and more, this is a pledge between us.
Just us. Just you and I.
No one else.

And so it goes, right?
The life we live, age, the things we do or say, and the people we meet and the things we love, the things that we see or the things we do are nothing more than elaborate patterns of time. And so it goes.
The seconds become minutes and minutes become hours.
And so it happens. We grow and we age.
Or how does that airline commercial go?
“You are now free to move about the country.”

And so it goes. Some move on. Some people fail to move at all. Some fail to launch and some never dare or try.
Either way, life is an elaborate pattern of times and events.
We look back in awe of how far we’ve come. Or, have we come far at all?
Look how many years have gone by.
Where have we been?
Have we moved from this spot?

I will advise you now that in light of recent news, this one might be a bit tough to get through.
I mean this both literally as well as personally. But at the same time, this might not be for everybody. This is for everybody and anybody who questioned themselves or wondered about their worth.
This is for the person who decided to go, rather than stay. But more, this is about a permanent decision over temporary ideas. Albeit dark and lonely; albeit hard and difficult to get up or get away; and albeit impossible to see an outcome that is brighter than your expectation; this is for you.
I can’t say why or how it is that I’m here now. By all accounts and in spite of my own efforts – perhaps I shouldn’t be.
Perhaps I should be a mark in a column of casualties, but I’m not.
I’m still here, at least somewhat . . . .

It isn’t much though, at least not really. All we are is a series of tiny moments that amass into this thing we call life.
I am offering this to you as a treaty of sorts. I want to place this here for you to hold in trust; this way, you will know something about me. At the same time, you will also have something substantial to hold and to see that life does have the ability to change.

We are a series of times and collection of memories and moments. We have our little trinkets, gifts and keepsakes which we pick up or grab along the way.
We are this.

Sure, I remember the first time I saw someone naked, live, and in person. I remember being a kid and seeing my first dirty magazine. At the same time, I’m not too sure where it began or if it ever began.
I don’t know where the attraction came from, other than I know “it is” an attraction.

I don’t know if I have ever experienced a typical crush. Then again, I’m not sure that I have ever been typical nor do I want to be. Yet, I know there’s always been a draw. There’s always been an attraction and an association.
I know there was a moment once. . .

I suppose what I miss the most are the things that no longer exist. And this is more than my youth. This is more than my ability to recover or to make it through a night without any sleep and somehow, I’d still be able to get to work the next day.
But I miss more than this.
I admit it.
I miss the angst. I miss the misdirection and the yearning to live yet I had only just begun. I had only scratched the surface of so many things that I had yet to understand.
I miss my version of the City. I miss the downtown score and the feelings I had when I was walking down by the unknown and undisclosed theaters where people would do their obscure readings.

There are people who we meet in life and albeit brief or if their stay in our existence is short or only temporary, no matter what happens to us afterwards or where our paths go off in different directions, these people will always be unforgettable to us.

I can see them now.
I can call them old friends and I can say that I knew them in a different lifetime. I can say that yes, we were young and we were wild, but not all of us were young. Not all of us were the same yet we were all going through the same process at the same time.