Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Aging. To me. Means reaching back. Farther and farther into
time. Stuff happening. More than 80 years ago. When I was a 3-year-old child. Some of it isn’t all that clear. But still, I
remember being there. Alive and conscious. I have a memory. That no doubt lacks detail.
It’s fun. Trying to decipher. And give meaning. To the happenings. In the early
years of my life. So much that one probably forgets. But why do I remember what
seems like incidental things? Odd, isn’t it? Such as being pushed. In a buggy.
Under the tracks of an elevated train. In Chicago, or so I assume. Having heard a
loud rumble. From the train. Overhead.
Don’t remember being scared. Just curious. Asking myself, ‘What’s that noise?’ I’ve since put 2 and 2 together. And found
the answer. But for so many things. There may never be answers. To piecing
together. My brilliant life. Sad, isn’t it? I’ll never know it all. Big gaps. Yes, my life
remains a puzzle. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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Yes, a puzzle. But I'd have it no other way. Puzzles were made. To be put together. --Jim
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Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462
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I love days that leave me puzzled. Gives me something to think about. As I fall asleep. --Jim
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