Lagging

I don’t know if the world has taken a hard left, or if it’s just slowly passed me by. I remember observing my parents, thinking that they were a step behind, trapped in a past world. Is that me now? I think so.

I listen to AM radio. I choose the news or a documentary over the latest Hollywood offering. I rarely crack the speed limit; even find myself cruising 10kmh under. I drink one beer. I talk less. I don’t chase women, and they sure as hell don’t chase me. I say things like “chase women”.

I stopped playing hockey. My bucket list could fit in a Dixie cup. I know what a Dixie cup is. I stopped coaching hockey. I stopped looking for new music and my recently played playlist has less than 6 songs on it.

When cops pull me over, I’m meek. 600 dollars for not having my paperwork on me? Whatever. Hope it goes to a good cause. If I invested it, it would only be worth 100 bucks anyway.

I think about where I want to be in 10 years. I have no idea. People that know me will find all this amusing. I was anything but dull. I always had a dream. Now I’m as exciting as rice pudding with no milk, sugar, cinnamon or butter. You got it, I’m a big cup of rice with dry raisins. White rice. Bland. Boring. Dry. Brittle. Dehydrated.

I sense a lot of people are feeling the same way. In many ways age is a state of mind. I’ve allowed myself to get very old. I’m 46 going on 75. This needs to stop. I’m getting close to ‘nothing to lose’ territory. I’ve never been afraid of much, add in reduced responsibility and 4 brothers and 3 sisters who are all as fearless as me? The possibilities are endless.

I will: coach again, swim in lakes and oceans, visit my sister more, walk with friends, throw parties at the river, play new music and play it louder, work out, visit friends more, and build/design things I want to build. I want to share my faith with anyone who wants to hear about it. Not because I’m worthy to tell the story, but because it’s too good a story not to tell. I want to play hockey again. I want to fly, I always want to fly.

The world has passed me by, but the race isn’t over. Don’t count me out just yet. Or maybe more importantly I shouldn’t count myself out. Who is with me? Thanks Bauer, I knew I could count on you.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris.