Growing up in America, I heard so many stories of my parents growing up in Liverpool. I begin the morning that begins the anniversary of my 20th year in the Charlottesville area by watching Liverpool and Everton play and I see the crowd shots and so many times wish I could be in a place like that...
I'm still growing up. I sometimes think my life has already happened, all at once, and I just experience parts of it as they flow, guided by all of this writing that I've done already. I wake up every day not quite remembering who I am at first, leaving dreams that are infinitely more vibrant than my waking life.
Seemingly more vibrant.
Regardless, I am now rooted to where I am, though I look to the horizon for sudden storms that may evade my perception. I scan for threats and always see them and live my life accordingly.
I can always dream of what it would have been like if I've made it to England, but it's too late now to make that a reality. It's been three years since I was there, and I can't imagine many situations where I would go over now. Every fiber of my being goes into the work I do, work driven somehow by wanting to make this place better, even if I don't always remember what that phrase means, either.
Anyway. There's no point to this on Facebook. I'm going to post this and then move it over the blog. I'm not sure why I need to write to a lot of people who could be those threats.
I wish I had been much more cautious about who I let near me and I've learned that lesson and thankfully now I can just work, many parts of my life completely over, over and out. It's okay, though. I can draw from all of the parts of my life and go mosaic in my approach.
Like
Comment
Share
No comments:
Post a Comment