There are many things I’d like to say to you, but I don’t know how…

I described myself in the short-worded version as his eyes darted back to his pizza, then the Pellegrino water that captured the sunlight in the glass, one ray at a time.  We took a walk, and then as the seagulls flew overhead, I was quiet.  I have wanted so badly to have an aerial view of my life.   I remember a thought as the everything flew above- this is only a moment; here I was in the setting sun of something that had failed who’s only purpose was to bring me to another starting line.  You would think I thought of it as a race, but in all reality- I knew in that moment there were times for walking quietly along the lake, and times for soaring above.  If only for an instant, I wanted my feet off the ground and the top-down perception that came with wingspan.  Trade-offs- where ironically neither human, nor bird really understands the complexities and simpleness of each other’s life.  One, wonderfully chipper complexity sat in the car behind me just hours earlier that afternoon.

My daughter looked at me with her inquisitive eyes  and asked the question that you’ll think about from the moment you feel your child’s first kicks inside your body.  ”Mommy, why do we die?”  There were times I told her of life’s cycles and the never-ending time that rules over our daily tasks, and breathing.  Something struck me then and I realized that life was a giant task of taking turns.  Some eggs won, some sperm lost- but here, was this incredible face looking up at me from the rear view mirror and my body had chosen in one, solitary moment: a beautiful successor. I told her quite simply that life, just like her preschool- was about taking turns.  We had to make room for new babies, ideas, and feats of futurism.  The room made would bring us forward and backward simultaneously- because no matter the newest gadget or the latest technological milestone, one thing remained: our ability be be, utterly human.

Relationships are like lifetimes.  Some run their course violently: recklessly convoluted and garishly ornamented with empty promises and self-caused delusions.  Others triumph slowly, building a crescendo at the end when the most important moments were recognized not by their status, but by who was there to celebrate it.  Finally, some slowly and steadily rise, then quickly fall, almost like a newborn calf on determined legs.  Mostly, what I’ve found is that those who have unremarkable lives, just aren’t trying hard enough.  Mediocrity is peaceful in the moment, but painful in moments of looking back.  Taking turns, allows these moments to happen.

I recognized then,  that an aerial view comes far too late, if at all.  And that, is life.