A Life Unlived

A Life Unlived

Sometimes at night, I lie awake in my bed and daydream about a life that never was. I lay stretched out, flat on my back, and stare into the darkness with the echoes of the night ringing in my ears as my mind wanders off into that far off parallel time that exists only in my mind, always starting off with me sitting on a park bench. It is the type of day that comes perhaps in February. One of those unusually warm days that give just a temporary glimpse into what the spring will bring in a few months. Occasionally, a walker will give a gentle nod his head hello or maybe give a "Nice day to be outside.", but otherwise I am left alone to ponder my thoughts. After a few minutes I can feel the weight of my body pressing against the wooden boards of the bench and my feet crossed as they stretch out before me. I survey the horizon from left to right and back again taking in all of my surroundings. There is a black fence surrounding the park and to my right is the gate for the entrance from Main Street and greeting everyone who enters is a concrete monument that says "Welcome to City Park". Behind the monument is a large live oak whose base is encompassed by azaleas that are waiting for April so they can display their blooms of pink and white. The massive branches from the tree serve as temporary shade depending on the time of day as well as something to climb for the more daring children. From the gate entrance there is the sidewalk that continues in from the street, goes under the oak, past the bench where I sit, and proceeds on around the couple of acres that makes up the park. In front of me are the play-sets; one a large structure that contains a high tower with two giant curving slides traversing down in a curvature angle along with a series of walkways with different climbing apparatuses such as a rope wall and some monkey bars. The other play-set contains swings and a merry-go-round that also doubles as a ship. The playing children run back and forth from one set to the other giving off a gleeful incomprehensible chatter that reminds me of blackbirds that populate the newly bare pecan trees in the fall. On the other side of the play-sets is an open space of grass where the older kids play kickball and soccer. Watching them, I want to jump up and take a kick at the ball, but knowing it is better off as a dream, I let out a quiet sigh instead and continue with my survey.

Just beyond the grassy space is the splash park that has been left empty since early October. A child is wandering close to the button that releases the water and his mother, who is completely aware of his intentions, calls out to him. Unaware of why he should not start the water on this warm day, it takes a second call from her to convince him that he should abandon this dream, but only temporarily until the summer comes. As I sit admiring this fine day, a breeze brings the smells of man coinciding with nature from across the city; rotting leaves still leftover from the Fall, smoke from a grill, the smell of the dirt wet from morning dew drying in the midday sun, diesel exhaust from a delivery truck passing by.

The sound of someone to my left exiting the bathroom brings my focus back to my bench and I realize that I have been here for half of the day just wasting time. Again I can feel my weight pressing on the slates of the bench seat. Maybe I should go for a walk? No. Too tired. Maybe I should have a little daydream instead.

I start to dream that I am the captain of a ship or perhaps I am living in a far off land in the hills, surrounded by the hardwoods of the north and away from the familiar pines of the southern coast. Settling into my seat, I begin to think more about this when my minds strays off course and I start to wonder about this life we are given and what we choose to do with it. I suddenly have this urge to write this feeling down, but I don't have a pen or paper, so I stop wondering about life and I continue on with my daydreaming. I picture myself lying in the bed. The purple light of daybreak makes its way in through the blinds and in the distance I can hear a flock of geese flying over. As I look toward the window, I realize that the 'me' in the park is dreaming of the 'me' right here and I wonder if there is a point which I can know which one is the dream and which one is real. I decide to take hold of the helm and imagine that the 'me' in the park imagines 'me' right here getting up to get a pen and paper; and this I did. Next I imagined that the 'me' in the park was imagining that the 'me' right here sat at a desk with the pen and paper and began to write about what I was daydreaming about. I sat at my desk and began to write about all that I had lost and loved and lived and perhaps never lived but wanted to and this continued on every morning. I wasted each day away at that desk writing all that I have ever thought about and I was never distracted nor did I stray from my task as I did in times before. I wrote as though this world was real and the other were imagined and back and forth and in my mind it were as though both lives were in a box and I could just take each one out when I wanted to examine it, like they were crystal balls kept in a secret place that only I knew of. I loved this dream so much that I kept imagining it each morning; waking before dawn to sit at my desk and write about the wonder of what life held, tasting it as if it were all happening at that moment, hearing the sounds of why and how, relishing its very existence and imagining how I felt when I lived in that moment although I might never had. From this point on I could not tell if it were a life I had lived or on the verge of living, but I wrote about it so I could keep it forever and tuck them away in that secret place so I could pull it out whenever I wanted to enjoy them. I wrote like this for months until one day, when winter had subsided, I awoke just before dawn as I had been doing, sat at my desk like always and thought about what it was that I wanted to write about, but I had nothing left. It was as though the reservoir were tapped dry and I needed to refill it. Viewing the night sky as it welcomed the purple light rising from the east, I realized that I had not left the house the entire time. I went to the sink, washed my face, put on my khakis, got my barn jacket from the closet and walked out into the fresh air of the morning. I made my way down the sidewalk until I got to the black gate, passed the concrete monument sitting under the oak that said "Welcome to City Park", and continued down the walk until I reached the bench. As I sat down on the wooden boards and felt my weight press down, I stretched my feet out in front of me and crossed my legs. Looking around, I sat content with life and observed the grand gestures as they unfolded before me, counting my blessings in life while living a daydream.