Don’t Blink

On my 18th birthday, I was home all day, in a Philadelphia suburb, trying to determine my very uncertain future. Graduating from high school was supposed to be a defining moment of my life, but college hadn’t taught me how to be self-sufficient. In fact, it had just underlined my very real lack of focus and direction in my life. So, to me, 18 wasn’t the coming of age. It was a reaffirmation that it would be a while before I would come of age.

By my 21st birthday, things were a little more settled, in that I had already dropped out of college, gone into the working world, relocated to Knoxville, Tennessee, and was still lost on what my life would eventually look like. All I knew at that point was that I didn’t want to be so lost anymore. It was easy to point fingers for why my life had become so listless because owning up to it being my fault was a bridge too far for me to go back then.

I still can’t believe that was over half my life ago. Sometimes it seems like this was me just yesterday.

On my 25th birthday, I was still in Knoxville, in flux, between worlds. I knew, at long last, my purpose in life. I was starting down the barrel of a failed marriage, but I was back in college, with a lot ahead of me, at least career wise. For the first time I felt like there was more to my life than just uncertainty, that there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

It was my first birthday alone.

On my 32nd birthday, I was flush with the excitement of a new child. We found out shortly after her birth that she would have her own unique set of challenges, which made my birthday a somber affair, but by my 33rd we would have begun adjusting to our new normal, and I would be so glad that this little girl came into my life. Both of my children show me every day what it means to appreciate life, something that had generally been reserved for my birthdays.

Now, here I am, on my 47th birthday… taking out the trash. That sounds about right. We have a long driveway, a twisting, turning affair, that makes me feel like I am a hero on a quest every time I trek down to the roadside with garbage in tow, like the pied piper, doing my duty. It was the first thing I did this morning, because life doesn’t wait for special days. It just moves along.

There’s a Kenny Chesney song, called “Don’t Blink,” where he sings about how fast life goes, and I feel those lyrics now. Those birthdays feel like they were all just yesterday, a few lifetimes ago. I blinked, and I’m here, surrounded by my wife and two teenagers. Keeping my eyes wide open for as long as I can.

Happy 47th to me.