Don’t Blink, Kenny Chesney
Part of living in God’s country is country western music. It’s literally the only music one can access on local stations. Thank goodness for all the alternative sources of music.
Country Western, in itself, wouldn’t be so bad except that more often than not, the theme is about loss…sad songs pulling on your emotions.
Regardless, a current local DJ favorite is an old Kenny Chesney song, Don’t Blink.
I’ve included it just in case you live in an area that does not favor the CW genre. The song plays well as the backdrop to this post so you might want to click on the play button just to get the full effect…
My kids and four grandsons descended this past week. We had great fun — the boys spending most of their time paddle boarding, kayaking, fishing, playing marathon monopoly and eating. Lots of eating, but then, they are all still growing skywards. They tower over me, making me that much more aware of just how quickly time is passing.
My oldest grandson recently graduated from University of California, celebrated his 23rd birthday and is stepping into a whole new life adventure.
The two sixteen year old cousins remain two peas in a pod, even though they’re launching in very different directions — one, interning at the California Academy of Sciences, has a science bent that far exceeds his age, and the other, a strong student with multi-faceted interests, is currently dedicated to his first love, playing varsity football. The fourteen year old missed the competitive gene despite having the build of a football player, but shows exceptional talent as an artist and sculptor.
My oldest and only granddaughter, in her early 30’s, is with her wife in London, where she is living her dream of being the lead pastry chef for a boutique cafe chain. They are hoping to become moms in the near future.
Which also means I’ll be a great-grandmother.
And my kids? Hovering on either side of 50 and, despite life challenges in health, family and careers, remain good people.
And that is ultimately what counts.
In all of this, I find it a bit curious that as we age and perhaps face more goodbyes than new adventures, there are unexpected moments of solitude and reflection, usually in the silence after the cars, kids, grand-kids and grand-dogs have departed.
It seems, at least for me, that it is in those moments of Aloneness that I have become keenly aware that the regrets and losses of our lifetimes stay closer than the successes.
The importance of the triumphs of our lives, those events once celebrated, have diminished with time. Like fine dust caught in a breeze, they leave little more than a whisper of a memory.
But the regrets? oh my. They hover close, just waiting for that moment of Aloneness to remind us once again of what we might have done, might have given, might have said…
…the different paths that our lives, and the people whose lives we touched, might have taken, if only…