My decadal years have not been kind to me.
My 10th year, my step-siblings moved in. I went from a big brother with a baby sister,
to dead last on the totem pole. My
brothers were stronger and more athletic than I, not to mention the youngest of
them being two months to the day older than I.
My 20th year I received a medical discharge from
the Navy, wrecked 3 cars and two motorcycles, was evicted twice and lost
several friends.
My 30th year my department was fired leaving a
very empty feeling and near paranoia.
My 40th year I was hit by a truck. Totaled the Harley and broke my back. I loved that bike. Did I mention withdrawals from Opiates
really, REALLY sucks.
My 50th year I finally realized that my career of
20+ years is done. Finished. Finito.
Sent to the dustbin of history. A place I can never return to.
So as I bid good riddance to a year of turmoil, strife, and
disruption and I welcome in a new beginning, I look into the abyss and think “Might
as well try to fly.”
