As I mentioned, yesterday was my birthday. I’m 32 now. I’ve arrived at the front brim of middle-age, and as the seconds tick on, I have been forced to ponder a few things about life.
The first epoch of my adult life is behind me now. How it happened is a mystery at best. Surely it was only months ago that I was sitting in front of my college professors, looking at an entire life ahead of me. Feeling like I could do anything I wanted. Feeling like old age only happened to old people. Thankful that I knew everything. I was a baby-faced cliché for sure.
I had it all planned out. I would graduate college. I would meet a fantastically incredible woman. I would get married. I would be wealthy. I would be healthy. I would be popular and loved. Little there would be that didn’t go perfectly my way. The only thing in my future was a fairy tale’s happy ending.
And a fairy tale it has been. Yes… life went exactly to script for me.
I met the girl. I made the money. I thrived in health. I padded the bank account.
The problem was, life wasn’t content leaving my fairy tale the way I’d written it, which was with the words “happily ever after.”
Almost as quickly as it came together it was always taken away. The girl. The money. The health. The bank account. Gone.
Then I’d get it all back. Then I’d lose it all again.