Comments on the Commentary
A while ago a good friend told me of a memory she had about her youth. She was on the softball team for the first time when she was 7 years old, and was terrible. Her coach would place her in the outfield at every game, and if one was sitting in the bleachers watching the game, they could spot her and her wavy brown hair out in far left field, completely oblivious to the game going on around her. She would recall how her glove would become her object of most attention, and would use it for various things, like using it as a shield from the sun. Pressing the glove up to her face, she would allow the sun to penetrate her skin through the openings in the leather lacing. Other times, she would peep through the holes at the sun, letting the warmth bathe only the smallest parts of her pupils.
I held onto her story. It meant something great and prolific to me. But what? What could a simple story about being a child catch such a big part of me? Then I realized. At the age of 24, I wake up everyday with a million and one things to do. Most of them are mundane everyday tasks, wash the dishes, buy the curry powder for dinner, sign up for automatic bill pay. But more and more, harder life decisions interject my otherwise meaningless to-do list. Is this the job path I really want to be following? Is this a man who I want to share my time, living quarters and sexual escapades with? And for how long? For the rest of my life? Then I start thinking far down the road; at the end of my days, is this what I could have done to be my happiest? What am I doing to make my life as whole and complete as possible? Is washing the dishes part of this plan? WAHAAAHAH!!! I explode. There is nothing left for me think. All of my thoughts, worries and ideas have combusted into a big tangle, and I’m left with a lobotomy-like view on life.
Then I think to what my friend told me about her in the outfield. Staring through her glove at the sky, not a care in the world. Maybe she did have care, such as when will I get my post-game fruit snack? But I can assure you it certainly wasn’t do I have enough sunscreen on? Is looking at the sun going to damage my eyes? Or how are my parents affording for me to play softball when they have me and my brother to feed and a mortgage to pay and college tuition to put money aside for every month? Or even worse: is playing softball part of my life plan?
Oh, to be young again. To be carefree and unhindered by big life decisions. I would give anything to go back to the beginning and stay there. But that is not reality. Reality is there are bills to pay, mouths to feed (my own and no others, thank god) and career paths that I must follow and choose to go right or left at the fork in the road. So how can I face reality without becoming overwhelmed? Without breaking down and being an emotional mess at all times?
Maybe it is okay to go back every once in awhile. To put that glove on your face and just breathe in the smell of the leather. The smell of the grass. The sound of a bat hitting a ball. Maybe that’s what gets you through the mortgages, the taxes, the breakups. And maybe it’s not. But I’ll put my trust in it for now.
I held onto her story. It meant something great and prolific to me. But what? What could a simple story about being a child catch such a big part of me? Then I realized. At the age of 24, I wake up everyday with a million and one things to do. Most of them are mundane everyday tasks, wash the dishes, buy the curry powder for dinner, sign up for automatic bill pay. But more and more, harder life decisions interject my otherwise meaningless to-do list. Is this the job path I really want to be following? Is this a man who I want to share my time, living quarters and sexual escapades with? And for how long? For the rest of my life? Then I start thinking far down the road; at the end of my days, is this what I could have done to be my happiest? What am I doing to make my life as whole and complete as possible? Is washing the dishes part of this plan? WAHAAAHAH!!! I explode. There is nothing left for me think. All of my thoughts, worries and ideas have combusted into a big tangle, and I’m left with a lobotomy-like view on life.
Then I think to what my friend told me about her in the outfield. Staring through her glove at the sky, not a care in the world. Maybe she did have care, such as when will I get my post-game fruit snack? But I can assure you it certainly wasn’t do I have enough sunscreen on? Is looking at the sun going to damage my eyes? Or how are my parents affording for me to play softball when they have me and my brother to feed and a mortgage to pay and college tuition to put money aside for every month? Or even worse: is playing softball part of my life plan?
Oh, to be young again. To be carefree and unhindered by big life decisions. I would give anything to go back to the beginning and stay there. But that is not reality. Reality is there are bills to pay, mouths to feed (my own and no others, thank god) and career paths that I must follow and choose to go right or left at the fork in the road. So how can I face reality without becoming overwhelmed? Without breaking down and being an emotional mess at all times?
Maybe it is okay to go back every once in awhile. To put that glove on your face and just breathe in the smell of the leather. The smell of the grass. The sound of a bat hitting a ball. Maybe that’s what gets you through the mortgages, the taxes, the breakups. And maybe it’s not. But I’ll put my trust in it for now.
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