Having decided to read a book he would not find, he settled his thoughts and turned the car towards his apartment. He was several blocks away when he figured he was feeling a bit better. There had been no great insight or awakening, he just knew the emptiness had been abated and that he might even be able to sleep tonight. The thought of a good night's sleep brought a smile to his face, he couldn't remember the last time his head hit the pillow without some sort of sleep aid. Tonight would be different.
Feeling blood again in his veins, he turned the terrible power of his intellect back to his prognosis - eighteen months to live. The slight smile that remained grew broadly as he realized a new level of irony to his predicament, the fact that it no longer mattered that he had not paved his career towards a secure and sensible retirement - he could now relax about that issue, if for none other. He allowed himself to slide back into another mental wormhole, figuring with only five or six blocks to go, he couldn't get into that much trouble.
He wondered what his life would be like if it didn't end so soon. He wasn't lamenting the loss of his future at all, just coolly analyzing the contingencies that might have been, the probabilities a better prognosis would have provided. As he began to unravel these paths, he realized just how poorly he had positioned himself in this, his sixth decade. It seemed that there had been many junctures in his life where he had either derailed himself, or even sabotaged his own progress. Much like the math rule he had taught the other day, it didn't matter how well you arranged your deeds (or variables), if you placed a zero or a really boneheaded move anywhere in the sequence, the product itself is zero. There had been many such setbacks in his life, and he suddenly became grateful that he had enough time to examine the etiology of this recurring theme before he died. Small favors.
There were the times he withdrew his retirement funds, for good reasons of course, the jobs he left in mid-trajectory, and a few relationships he did not actualize, never letting them develop. He wouldn't say these acts had been deliberately self-destructive, more like the decisions of someone who had no fear of the future, not doubt in his own abilities. He smiled remembering all the jobs he had done, so many in fact, that no one ever believed him when he listed them - even the private detective that had reviewed his history for his security clearance for the US Government couldn't make sense of it all. He hadn't worried about security as he knew he could always work, somewhere anyway. It dawned on him for the first time in the three months he had been aware of his condition, that he might have been spared a more painful, pathetic end.
Perhaps the most puzzling thing about all of this was that so many people he had met in his life expressed admiration for the things he had done. True, he had built a life of service to others, and conversely neglect of loved ones, but it always amazed him when people were impressed. Did they not know the cost of his enterprise? Or, had their lives been missing something, something so significant they lamented the absence of it despite their relative security? Was anyone, anywhere happy?
He had found a measure of peace in an odd way. In the scope of an hour, he had reconciled his future, and more importantly his past - it really didn't matter how much more time he had. He was less fortunate than some, more gifted than others. He knew who he was, and he knew his time. Not a bad drive at all.
He smiled again, reorienting himself to his neighborhood as he made his way back. He barely noticed the red light above him and a large blur to his left, relieved though that it was big - easier this way, might even look like an accident. As the door panel exploded into him, he hoped God hadn't noticed the five previous lights he had ignored.
Feeling blood again in his veins, he turned the terrible power of his intellect back to his prognosis - eighteen months to live. The slight smile that remained grew broadly as he realized a new level of irony to his predicament, the fact that it no longer mattered that he had not paved his career towards a secure and sensible retirement - he could now relax about that issue, if for none other. He allowed himself to slide back into another mental wormhole, figuring with only five or six blocks to go, he couldn't get into that much trouble.
He wondered what his life would be like if it didn't end so soon. He wasn't lamenting the loss of his future at all, just coolly analyzing the contingencies that might have been, the probabilities a better prognosis would have provided. As he began to unravel these paths, he realized just how poorly he had positioned himself in this, his sixth decade. It seemed that there had been many junctures in his life where he had either derailed himself, or even sabotaged his own progress. Much like the math rule he had taught the other day, it didn't matter how well you arranged your deeds (or variables), if you placed a zero or a really boneheaded move anywhere in the sequence, the product itself is zero. There had been many such setbacks in his life, and he suddenly became grateful that he had enough time to examine the etiology of this recurring theme before he died. Small favors.
There were the times he withdrew his retirement funds, for good reasons of course, the jobs he left in mid-trajectory, and a few relationships he did not actualize, never letting them develop. He wouldn't say these acts had been deliberately self-destructive, more like the decisions of someone who had no fear of the future, not doubt in his own abilities. He smiled remembering all the jobs he had done, so many in fact, that no one ever believed him when he listed them - even the private detective that had reviewed his history for his security clearance for the US Government couldn't make sense of it all. He hadn't worried about security as he knew he could always work, somewhere anyway. It dawned on him for the first time in the three months he had been aware of his condition, that he might have been spared a more painful, pathetic end.
Perhaps the most puzzling thing about all of this was that so many people he had met in his life expressed admiration for the things he had done. True, he had built a life of service to others, and conversely neglect of loved ones, but it always amazed him when people were impressed. Did they not know the cost of his enterprise? Or, had their lives been missing something, something so significant they lamented the absence of it despite their relative security? Was anyone, anywhere happy?
He had found a measure of peace in an odd way. In the scope of an hour, he had reconciled his future, and more importantly his past - it really didn't matter how much more time he had. He was less fortunate than some, more gifted than others. He knew who he was, and he knew his time. Not a bad drive at all.
He smiled again, reorienting himself to his neighborhood as he made his way back. He barely noticed the red light above him and a large blur to his left, relieved though that it was big - easier this way, might even look like an accident. As the door panel exploded into him, he hoped God hadn't noticed the five previous lights he had ignored.
can't wait to read your coming piece... i check every other hour to see if my favorite writer did post a new piece of art...:)g
ReplyDelete