Hole in the middle.
It is no house on the prairie, but getting to wake up to a brilliant sunrise – one that comes in shaded hues of striking yellow, shy pink and ocean blue streaked across the sky like a Pollock masterpiece – and perhaps the welcoming twitters and exhausted chirrups of the birds and crickets as they embrace the morning light, will do just as fine.
But do we have to always strive for the best, or be content with being a random achiever? After all, why settle for a decent slice of the pie when you can have it all within your grasp, including the sun, sea and stars? Must we be ruthlessly pursuing and purposefully striding only forwards into the vast unknown, unseeing and unhearing, holding fast to the belief that ignorance is bliss?
Sometimes, moving two steps back is better than taking one step ahead. There could be intense cravings to recoup what was lost – which may have been set upon by a steady string of misfortunes at a gambling den, or come in the form of countless syrupy words and many indulgent hugs once freely solicited from a then sweetheart – but when one is still considered new to this annoying puzzle of a game that we call life, perhaps nothing else really matters anymore.
We are never truly old until we are. For things can, and will, happen – or so you continue to console yourself into blissful oblivion…
I used to wonder where scriptwriters derive enough material to write their sob stories and tales of triumph for television, and of loves lost, feuding families and the like. Now I know.
I hate it when my life turns into a soap opera.