The world that once was.

The world that once was.


The friends of old are gone, remembered yet not so much missed. A few here and there spark thoughts of if’s. There is no clear line of sight nor definitions of what could have been,
Past lives for the most part are just that, and not to be brought to being now in the present day, as with past loves. You remember those things that made you be, made you feel, and you may compare that to what you have today. But today is all you have to hold close, to feel and not remember.
All those people who have crossed my life, for the most part did only that. Those few who made a more marginal dent, don’t exist to fill that crevice, and they never were meant to be.
What I feel today is nothing like I felt back then and when. The things I cherished then are less important, and in part even unremarkable.
We all have the little things that hold us, the things we know we will never have again, the things that perhaps never should have been. It is those few things that are baggage, the term we use for regret. From day to day that list of regret’s grows and shrinks, some show one day and are un remembered the next.
The devastating moments that were thought to end life fade over time. The things we fought so hard to attain that we were sure were there as a MEANT TO BE are gone and not even missed.
It is funny sitting here in my young yet old age realizing that that old saying “there is no never and there is no forever” is so undeniably true it is scary.
I can remember a time where all I aver wanted was to be old enough to work, not mowing lawns or shoveling snow…but a job with a pay check, and then another time where all I wanted was to be rid of that pay check and go back to deciding where and how I made my money and in the way I wanted it to be made. There are a few things that no matter how I try to put away I cannot do with any amount of success.
Those are the things that make me seem less. I think in some areas they make me more, and am put off by those who make it less, some one once told me to be careful when treading on some ones dreams because they have very delicate wings and very easily could stop flying.
My little ones (though they are not) were and are mine, nothing any one can say to me will change that. I am always told “they are not yours, never was because you did not create them.”
Perhaps that is true, yet how can I know when that is the only thing I know, the only way I knew.

What I do know is that if you have ever held anything so beautiful that you didn’t want to put it down, and you would fight all the world to retain possession then you would die a happy person. If you ever knew the total and complete lack of anything but love that poured out of a little being watching you watch them, the total trust and affection that you know inside and out that you would die for that little child with out thinking, with out hesitation and with out prejudice.
Maybe since I have never had one of my own that my perception is un realistic or un informed, yet if it is then it is out of ignorance because in my mind that love that warmed the soul was sure hot enough to consume my mind thoroughly and eternally. I apologize if that is an insult to all of those who have “real” children, those who think that I don’t understand what it is to be a dad because I was not proficient in procreation.
I know that when those stars were taken from my sky that chicken little was entirely correct…the sky is falling. After all these years I still see the part of the sky where they used to reside, and I see the holes, the darkness, the lack of being. In my eyes and it had to be what “god” saw when he decided to make the stars to light the depths of what he recognized as hell.
Yes, I know…They are not my kids.