The Wave

And time rolls on, no matter what we do to stop it. Its inexorable torrent bowls us over like that big wave at Neponsit when I was a little kid. Man, was I shocked! I was suddenly flat on my back with torrents of water rushing over me, going into my nose. I’ll never forget looking up and seeing the rushing water, blue-green, lit by the sun. And then Dad came and pulled me out. I felt so many things at once—loved, protected, moved that he saved me, but stunned that the water could have so much power.

And time is just like that, so much slower and more gradual as it knocks us flat sometimes, but an irresistible force nonetheless. You find me now, dear reader, knocked flat by time, struggling to get up. And Dad can’t do it for me this time. Funny, though—he seems like he’s been knocked flat by time. Isn’t there anything I can do to help him up?

These thoughts occur to me now, in the fortieth year of my age, sitting at this white desk, writing now at 10:39 PM. What’s goin’ on? I wish I knew. Life’s not to be summed up by what woman I’m sleeping with at the moment, but that’s how I’ve tried to do things sometimes. To “let fly thy façade,” this is not so easy for me. Truly, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. How many times I repeat that phrase—wishfully, perhaps. For indeed it’s there I want to dwell.

Older now, why must I feel so old? Yesterday, I felt I’d gotten my happiness back. Today, I feel so little energy, so little power. I hope tomorrow I’ll wake up energetic and strong, and march forth. It helps to have someplace to march to. But this seems so difficult for me now. I’m knocked flat. I said that, I know. But where dogs bark, where birds fly, that’s where I must go. To the country! Or to the suburbs! How trite, how true. I must marry, I must have many children, and I must live in the suburbs. But what if I don’t wanna? I want to be somewhere that’s not here, not New York, but still has people Upscale and Sophisticated, people I want to be around. But do they want to be around me? This is another question to ponder as we prematurely and abruptly end this promising communiqué.

January 6, 1991


This page last updated November 04, 1997.