Sunday afternoon, autumn day, cool, cloudy and gray.
And as I listen to Liszt on my Echo, time carries me
safe and secure ever so calmly into the region of my
74th year.
Never expected to make it this far, but there were those
days in my twenties when time seemed irrelevant to me.
Seventy-four years were as distant and implausible as a
hundred back then.
Generally, though, those were pain free days, or at least
days where I could rely on my aches and pains eventually
healing on their own and going away.
The body and mind were miraculous that way in those
fleeting formidable years of youth. Time was a cure in
those days. Nowadays, however, if I manage my pain
I know that’s the best I can do. For tomorrow and each
passing day, it will only worsen incrementally.
Given my chronic arthritic condition, even though there
isn’t a chance in hell that I’ll survive that long, a hundred
years is unattainable yet just over the horizon of life, in
actuality not so far away.
For now, I rest safe, warm and secure with melodies from
Liszt to temporarily soothe me in my present time and place.
Hell fire and damnation, who knows, I may just make it six
more months to see age 74. And as the Old Timers use to
say, “Good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.”
-30-
Chris Hanch 10-25-2020
No comments:
Post a Comment