A year here now on the edge of The Great Brooklyn Wilderness.
A year of tribulations.
A year of joy.
A year of growth.
A year of growth?
I can't really deny it. It's been a year of growth too, but the soles of my feet are itching. It's time for something.
Whole heapa tings a gwan.
And yet something isn't quite right yet. Nothing is settled. Decisions have to be made. Grown folk shit. A friend suggested the other day that... wait... a friend? Yes, a friend. A friend suggested that perhaps I get along with children as well as I do because I am still a child myself, and swore up and down that it was said with the utmost love and more respect because not everybody has to be just this or that at any given age and that it's a shame everyone can't be valued for their strengths. I'm been feeling "some kinda way" about it but maybe because I don't know if I can deny it. It may actually be the plain truth of the matter. There are many other ways it could be phrased. I might have said that the world of adults became very clear to me all at once one night years ago and that since then I've never been able to un-see the truth... that all this grown folk shit is really for the birds.
Certainly artificial and just random enough that many things about it could have been a certain way but aren't and because of that there are just things about it that I've never been able to reconcile. I've never been able to find any redeeming value in much of it. Much of it just seems mean and dumb. So that just leaves the question:
What is true?
True is the lake, despite being manmade, but the ducks swim all day and night in it anyway. It's what they have even though it's not a real lake. It's dirty and not a nice shade of green and it's foul and if I don't want to swim in it. I wouldn't even want to fall in it by accident, but it's the hand the ducks have been dealt. It's what they've got in lieu of anything else in the world. Some animals are extinct, and hell, bumblebees are on the fucking endangered species list.
The ducks have their lake, and they share it with swans and geese and turtles and the odd fish and people gather around on warm days and ooooh and aaaah and it's what those people have in lieu of anything else in the world to ooooh and aaaah at on their days off from jobs that they may or may not like.
Sound familiar? Ducks have the lake. I have the lake. We share it, and I think the ducks probably think about a better lake, at least from time to time.
What else is true?
The white hairs on my head are true. There are an awful lot of them and there were some before but many showed up in 2016. I'm not young and this time thing only goes in one direction.
The white hairs on my dog's muzzle are true. She won't be around forever either. I'm not being morose. It's just true. She won't be, though she may just outlive me. Maybe she'll end up getting rickety with someone else and she'll love them and come to dream about them too, the way I'm told she might just dream about me.
The decisions I make will be for her also, and I can be grown up about that. She deserves that.
She deserves that.