Conversation I

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”  Pretty sure the question wasn’t aimed at any questionable moral issues I may have had in my past, my reply was still tinged with trepidation.

“Get up every morning.”

With resignation I wince and reply.  “I’m guessing you mean something different than grudgingly opening my eyes, stretching and having to pee just like every other human on this planet?”  

While I didn’t mind these conversations sometimes they were difficult because I just didn’t have the answers that were wanted to be heard.

“Don’t be a smart ass.  You know what I mean.”

Much more earnestly was the follow up.  “Your life has completely been turned upside down yet you get up every morning.  Added to that your days are filled with all sorts of crap a normal day is devoid of.  So?  How do you do it?”

Really not in the mood for this inquisition I went with flippant. “I’m a Nike ad I just do it.”

Judging from the snorting response I immediately discerned I was in for the long haul and flippant was not going to be the detour to the short cut out of this conversation.  Okay, I’d try the daily heard constant cop outs.  “It is what it is.  At the end of the day.  What else am I going to do, stay in bed all day?” 

Judging from the sighs that sounded about as patient as a blustery fall breeze trying to bully clinging leaves into their downward spiral I deduced that this answer also fell short of expectations.

“Okay.  Think about it.  Honestly what are you going to do when everything you’ve hoped, promised yourself and expected of your future come crashing down about your ears.  What can you do?  Nothing, it is what it is.”

Yikes that answer got me a “nasty”, piercing icy wind through the soul “No Quarter” dogs of doom feeling.

“All right. I’ll try.”

The problem is I’ve thought about this for a long time.  Trying to answer the question is like.  Well, like if a thought is a snow flake.  You look up and see a flake drifting down so perfectly defined in its symmetry.  Then it lands on the palm of your hand.  You see it, you almost understand the amazement.  Then as the flake, slowly melts you can’t remember symmetry.  But you remember the amazement.

“Okay.  Try this.  Sometime back when you were just starting out.  Just realizing that there was something more in front of you than Jane Smith and whether she was going to “dump” you tomorrow at Sandy Jone’s birthday party.  There were promises life made, chances life offered and plans.  Do you remember that time?”

“Nope.

“Why am I talking to you then?”

“You have absolutely no choice.  I’m not letting you go until you answer.”

Crap.  I’m dealing with a dumb ass I really am. How do I explain what I don’t know to the clueless?  Perhaps if you can put down the Tapioca I might get through.

“Alright.  There’s hope, promise and chance.  Get it?”

“Nope”

“You have to get it you dumb ass it was your idea.”

“Nope”

“

There’s hope, promise and chance.  There was a morning somewhere around eighteen years of age or so you recognized all three.  Remember?”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean NOPE?”

“I don’t remember that day.”