I set out for Houston yesterday morning with a nice covering of winter gray clouds and a north wind. I like that short light, when you know the sun barely has enough energy to get up over the horizon. Arrived just in time to find my appointment moved up by 15 minutes which now meant I was right on time. Got a temporary crown, a touch up filling, and clean teeth. I was back on the road in no time. The clouds were gone, the sky was clear, and I knew I’d make it home before dark. I felt good. The music was pounding, and I was on the leading edge of the first pulse of cars heading home down the freeways.

At one point, I found myself waiting for a light at the entrance to a fancy new subdivision out west along the Westpark tollway. And I thought how my good feeling felt like the good feeling I had back in my own day when I was pulling into my own fancy new home where the kids were waiting, and the wife was waiting, and life was waiting. And it was all about the future, great unmeasurable gobs of it. I thought how different it is now when I am lucky to have the future be even a day or two and it takes work to get that.

But it’s work I don’t mind doing because I want a future even though there was a time, as my wife was ailing and then dying, when it felt as though someone had tied a bag over my head and the future was right at the end of my nose. I’m through that. Heck, some days the future even seems to stretch out for months full of things to anticipate although it can shorten up with a snap without warning. Not sure how that works. But I’ll figure it out. I think basically it’s just a new trick an old dog has to learn and sooner or later I’ll get there. Mostly, I guess because I want to get there. Which may be how the future works. You have to want one.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale