In 1981 I was born in a hospital near Cleveland, Ohio. The son of an industrial engineer and homemaker I grew up in an affluent suburb. I had everything I wanted. Everything I needed. It was a happy childhood spent in the woods, on bicycles, and playing war in the backyard. I was Catholic but more accurately Calvinist, though maybe not the one you’re thinking of. Mine was from Ohio. Like me.
School was kind. It was before teachers got stupid. I remember a lot of mine; the smiling faces teaching me this thing and that. I found history. I found music. I found the Protestant religion. That was empty, turns out. No offense.
20 years done.
I found love right around the time planes hit New York City, like my father remembering the Challenger exploding or John Kennedy dying. The internet wasn’t working. I took a shower. Went to class. The TV was on and I got there just in time to watch buildings fall down. That first love didn’t work out so well. I won’t talk about the second.
Sickness made me fight. Ended everything that came before and bore me anew. Leaner. Meaner. Nastier. Faster than you in clicking that switch and doing what needs to be done. Cruel, even. I’m sorry for it. Living a month from death at all times will do that. Focuses you. You go to war against everything. Time is wasting and you know it because you are too. The gods are waiting. Augustus will be proud. Trajan will smile. I fought until my services were no longer needed. I was honorably discharged via the pink slip. No hard feelings. Ran out of money. I understood. I had cast the die high and lost.
40 years done.
Classroom is court. The belly is rounder, but the eyes are bright and the beard cut formally enough. Sol. Terra. Mesopotamia. Rome. Augustus. Christ. Justinian. Mehmed. The city has fallen but I am still alive. Venice and beyond. They’ll learn it all. I’ll beat it into them by will alone. I don’t care what they think. This is the work now and I am the work. Can’t stop the work. There’s nothing else. Well, except her. The one at home. I like her. It’s love, but different. There’s duty. We’re ready in all the ways that matter and it makes me happy. Very, very happy.
I’ve been thinking a lot. About Him. You know who I mean. Looking back across my life and history I know why the name is not spoken. I wouldn’t dare now. I’m not sure where, or how, but I realized in all my time away He’s been waiting. I’m back now. Home.
Guess those baptisms really do stick. Joke’s on me, and so on. Good. I can laugh at myself. It’s one of the things I learned, out there in the world but not of it. I’ve never been of it. Not really. I’ve had enough weird looks to know it’s true. That’s a very strange thing to realize, especially with how natural it feels. How easy. How did I ever think otherwise?
I don’t think I’ll make the second childhood. From the Latin, I’m planning like I will but living like I won’t. There’s the work. There’s her. There’s the new ones we make. The new ones we raise. The ones who will go on after I’m gone. The ones who build the New World.
It’s almost too much to bear. Too much to witness. I can’t do it. But I will.
Thine really is the kingdom. The power. And the glory. Forever.
Amen.
For such a short piece, it reaches wide and plumbs deep. It triggers too many thoughts to write a coherent thread. So, I'll settle for: I'm happy for you and yours. I often feel like one who climbed life's mountain. I endured times of misery and challenge, but I kept going. I achieved the peak and witnessed the true glory of it. Now several years older than you, I'm on the decent, but my heart swells with encouragement and enthusiasm for those still climbing. To keep going, day after day, will be worth more than you can imagine.
Born in 1981, I can't imagine. I was born in 1943.