This is going to be a very personal post, where I put some of my deepest feelings in black in white. I am not going to try to word -smith it to death. It will be what it will be.
I put so much effort into creating a stable, reliable, predictable life for myself and my family, my children. My mind lives in the future and my body works toward the day when we will have enough of everything. Money. Time. Freedom. Happiness. Health. Love. Those are in the wrong order, but they 'came out' that way.
I get up early every morning and perform the same routine. Take a shower. Brush my teeth. Wake up my son. Iron my clothes. Wake up my son again. Get dressed. Put on my belt. Put my wallet, keys, and cell phone in my pocket. Kiss my wife good bye. Put on my shoes. Grab my lunch. And hurry out the door and start the morning commute.
It may seem like an odd order of events, but it is the routine that has became mine over the years. Over 14 years at the same job. A stable job. A job that allows me to provide for my family.
I'm not a morning person, per se. So all of the above is done at the last possible minute, usually. I rarely get up early enough to provide extra time to ease into my morning. When I do, it is well worth the effort. When I stay in bed too long, we sometimes miss my son's bus and I have to drive all of the way across town to drop him off at school. Yet I still make it to work on time, usually.
The routine, the job, it is a blessing and a curse- providing for our needs and some wants. Providing some freedom, but mostly taking freedom away. Sometimes it provides for desperation and fatigue. I can't even explain it. The routine begins to grind on me. It begins to make me feel like life is passing me by. All I do is go to work, come home, sit on the couch, watch TV, try to avoid yelling at my kids and wife as they constantly ask me to get them this and do that. I go to bed and start another day.
The waves of each day like the waves of a lake and the wind on its sunny shore, slowly leech the color from my life, it seems, like the wood on the shore.
The variety that is the spice of life is gone. No new adventures, just the reliable ones. Sure, there are things I enjoy. I take the boys fishing (and even my wife once in a blue moon). I enjoy it if I am in the right frame of mind. But it is too easy to get caught up in catching fish. Yelling at the kids to watch their fishing poles. They are going to miss the next bite if they don't watch it. They are having too much fun running around the lake, throwing rocks (which is a big no-no if you want to catch fish, don't they realize), chasing after each other, laughing. Making memories.
If I am not careful, I don't take a moment to look up from the fishing poles, from tying the knots, pinching on sinkers and baiting the hooks. I have to force myself to extend my gaze and take in some of the color and beauty that surrounds me, before my determination, and often failure to meet expectations, leeches all the joy from my soul.
Why doesn't joy and happiness come naturally to me? I don't know. Maybe I am too focused on my selfish desires and wishes. I am too busy lost in my thoughts to carry on a good conversation with a loved one.
My constant selfishness leaches the color from my life. That is the truth.
Yet, look--- even after all that damage is done, after the color has faded completely. I see that beauty still surrounds me. Even in black and white. There is mercy in black and white.
They say fathers are important, though modern man is often belittled; disparaged.
I hope that after all the sacrifice (I have often offered with bitterness of heart), my children will be thankful, understanding and forgiving of their father. But most of all, I hope they absorb the beautiful color I bled for them.