One More Thing
Things are changing. You might recall in 2023, after climbing to the top of Guadalupe peak and returning, I felt my life was entering a new period. I called it my Guadalupian Period, being as I’m a newborn fan of geology. And I was right. 2024 has been different. I missed an annual trip to Red River with friends to babysit grandkids. I had an aneurysm repaired. My daughter moved to Virginia. Friends have fallen sick, fallen out of love, fallen in love, fallen out of sight. I painted my house. Got a new roof. All around, things are changing, the ground is moving beneath my feet.
At times, it feels unsettling, because my life had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of going and doing. But now I’m standing on the melting ice of a glacier, waiting for the dead land to unlock and reveal itself, living in a sort of timelapse, as one age dies, and another appears. What will be left? What will be discovered? What will need doing? What will need forgetting? How long will the new age last, my last, the wrap up years.
And that’s an interesting way to think about it. How will I wrap things up. What sort of paper will I use, what bow, what finishing flourish. It’s a nice problem to have, actually. Many of my contemporaries are now gone. So, I’m one of the lucky ones. I get to think about my exit. I don’t suppose I’ll try anything spectacular, garish, or outlandish. All in all, I’d rather be silent and well-dressed. I have a nice home, in a quiet town, it’s a good place to be. I have family and close friends. I have my faculties. I feel younger than my years. So, in the time allotted, whatever that may be, I have a chance to do the one more thing. I suppose I ought to get busy finding out what it is.