The Late Hour

If I’m living my life backwards, as I suspect, then maybe reaching 50 won’t be so bad. If so, then maybe I AM destined for greatness, even at this late hour. Maybe things are just now beginning to unfold.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’ve held 50 as some kind of cutoff point – as some kind of late hour, when time has almost run out and the day is closer to over than to beginning. I only just realized this as 50 began looming on the horizon and I mean LOOMING. Truth be told….somehow I’ve had this idea that after 50, I won’t be as viable. Common sense tells me that is rubbish, folderol, BALONEY. But…this is the little fear that I’m confessing today.

What if I’m out of time? What if whatever was supposed to happen has happened, and the ensuing years are just going to be a long, slow, slide into oblivion. Like Venice, I’m slowing sinking. When do I stop fighting?

TIME, you heartless bastard – why can’t you stop running, running, running out the door? Can we just stop for a second so I can get my bearings? I need to know what is the most important now. I have to prioritize. I have to go through the closet of my life and throw out everything that no longer fits. I want everything to fit now. I want everything to be cashmere. Why shouldn’t I have cashmere?

Well I guess if I’m living my life backwards, I have a lot more living to do. God knows I didn’t do that much of it when I was young – hence my heretofore well-preserved carcass. Maybe I haven’t challenged myself enough. Maybe the challenge is to challenge yourself when you don’t particularly feel driven to do so. 26 days and counting down.