It's been tough these past few weeks. At times I feel like a raft out at sea, being tossed about, carelessly, by the rough winds and roaring waves. Waiting for that moment when the elements overwhelm, and everything ups and turns upon itself, a crash, destruction, and it all sinks under, to lie, buried beneath the surface of the sea. That, or a constant journey across the miles of endless blue. Just a piece of discarded driftwood. Old, rotten, forgotten, fragile. Just waiting for that first glimpse of land.
But it's not all bad. There are good moments too. Like when I retreat into my past, and try to reconnect with the kid within. Good days of old. The Peter Pan complex. Never wanting to grow up. But then again, we all do, and we must.
But every once in a while, when all looks dull and gray, it's never too late to pick up a piece of an easier, happier, less complicated childhood. And to just enjoy the moment.
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