Blink, and it's Gone

Life moves fast, doesn’t it? Yesterday I was in my late teens, sitting in a Waffle House until sunrise, having “philosophical” debates. Today, as I write this, I’m a week from turning forty-one. I have drifted through most of my life, letting the current carry me. Somehow, it’s kept me afloat.

There is not a day I don’t think about that Alice in Chains lyric: “You always told me you’d not live past twenty-five.” Twenty-five years ago, that was me. I said that before I knew it was in a song. I also told my friends that by the time our high school reunion rolled around, I would be over four hundred pounds and living behind an Applebee’s dumpster.

I never reached that goal, if you’re curious. So yes, I’m a failure.

Yesterday I was sleeping on the floor in a high school history class because the teacher, who had a strict no-sleeping policy, brought me a pillow and blanket. Today, people trust me with power tools. It feels like I closed my eyes for two decades and woke up lost.

I remember sitting in that same Waffle House years later with a friend whose life was at an intersection. They had a choice: join the Army or drift like me. They joined. And now they’re an airline pilot who takes their family to Dubai every few months. Me? I’m writing this blog. Different paths. Different outcomes. Both earned.

These days, my family expects me to handle all of their home renovations. And I’m older than my father was when he had his first heart attack. Today I stood at the top of those same stairs where, years ago, I watched him collapse. Today, he has me. But I never had kids. So who will I have tomorrow?

Life moves fast. And it only gets faster as we get older.

This isn’t a post about comparing successes or failures. Life isn’t a competition. We all carry ghosts, each one a version of who we could have been. Sometimes I regret not taking the same path as my friend at that Waffle House counter, but there are people who would envy my life, as well. The point is to make peace with our ghosts and keep moving.

I think that’s what Passport and a Promise is really about: finding our paths and honoring the promises that keep us moving. Getting my passport was a promise to myself. I’d always wanted to travel. Now I just have to make it real.