Man, it’s deceivingly icy out there today. A coat of crusty ice slathers the pavement and parking lots, which makes walking your kid into his preschool more of an adventure than expected. I was on the way back home this morning after dropping him off and going to the grocery when I stopped at a red light. The intersection’s in front of my old high school, so I sat there at the light, looking at the building and thinking back.
And I remember, like it was yesterday, running across the ice toward that very school.
I looked up at it again—it’s on a small hill overlooking the road—and then I looked at the boy and I thought, someday he might be sitting right where I am, just like me, 40-years-old and saying the same thing, “What the f—k, where did it all go? Time. Just… wow.”
And I’ll be 63 and saying, “I don’t know. I feel just the same.”
And then, bemusedly, I thought, someday that boy will be 63 and there will be another 40-year-old fella sitting there (who isn’t even born yet). And he’ll say, “What the f—k, where did it all go? Time. Just…wow.”
And the 63-year-old boy will say, “I don’t know. I feel just the same.”
…and then I’ll be sitting there, age 86. And I’ll say, “Eh? Did you young fellas say somethin’? Where are we?”