Sometimes I wish that the day never ended. When the sun is bright
and when the day breaks, just past the morning, into an endless spora
of opportunity - I'd like to stay there. I'd like to dwell in those moments
where my mind is clear and where I'm feeling redemptive - and
forgiving towards my wrongdoers - and understanding of those who
have left me in the dust for other things and different lives.
I see clearly. I can do even the most menial tasks with excitement
and enthusiasm. I eagerly push forward. I do dishes. I clean my
bedroom. I send emails I should have sent days ago. I exercise. I
smile more.
When the night comes in, though, all bets are off. I feel the rush
to do things before I turn it all off for a few hours and hit the reset
button on the video game console of my life. I feel scattered. I have
trouble focusing. I feel irritable. I have anxiety before falling asleep.
The shade of night brings with it uncertainty and worry and serious
concern. If I'm lucky, I'll have some booze nearby to warm my liver
and keep my mind from jumping around. If not, I'll try to dull the
senses by playing NHL 97 on my Sega Genesis.
Many poets and writers have described life in terms of a day. St
John of the cross wrote 'In the evening of life, we will be judged
on love alone'. If that's true, I think I'm okay because I sure have
loved a truck-load. I have loved people who have never dared show it
back over decades. I have loved where others have told me not
to love. I have loved those out of my reach and let the least friendly
person in my life occupy warm thoughtspace. I have loved others
without question when many have told me to turn away. I have
loved shallow, self-absorbed people. I have given. And given.
And given.
And I'll keep on giving if I make it through this night.
