There are those soul’s, born old — like I was, according to someone who knew me when I was younger.
And there are those soul’s, born older than I.
I envy them, I suppose that I do, or should, I think.
Was it a curse, I’ve often asked myself, being “Born Old”? Most of the time, I think not, but occasionally, yes, I do…think about that.
That curse, or is it, “That Blessing”?
Will I ever know? Probably not.
But right now, I think that it was, more of a curse, to see so much at such a young age.
Ah, the enigma of life! Born old, living long enough to be old, but I don’t feel it.
So, maybe I wasn’t born old. Maybe…I was just born with my eye’s wide open.
Yes, that could be it — just as my daughter was on the day that she was born!
On this Father’s Day, I still do mourn. It’s been too many hard years apart from them, my daughter and my son.
But that’s what divorce does…to my little one’s, more than myself, by a long-shot.
Sadness….and yet, still hope.
One Man's Journal.... 