We exchanged the usual hollow greetings that goes with this time of the year and I offered complaints about the incessant heat. We soon ran out of stuff to talk about but before the inane arrived the route went like this:
"How is your blog doing? he asked with a sincere stare in his eyes.
"It is about the only thing that is doing right now," I answered without letting him see the loser flag that began waving furiously inside my being.
"Oh OK so have a nice day," he said and moved on to another empty and meaningless space.Over breakfast the next day I had this conversation with the moms:
"I ran into M. yesterday and he asked about my blog. I mean really now. My blog!"An hour later on my way to the gym these old lines started to play loudly in my existential head:
"Oh how nice. Is he still a big shot in the government?" the moms asked as I looked for the butter on my toast.
"I mean why ask about the blog," I complained with one eye on the pretend marmalade that moms likes and I absolutely detest.
"Why do you buy this brand of marmalade? I can't stand it. Real marmalade does not come in a can," I vented with a traveled air.
"This is Kimberley. You lucky they even carry any brand of marmalade," the moms added sternly.
"Well I will just have peanut butter then," I said in a quiet voice that deferred.
"So how is your blog doing anyway?" the moms asked shoving a metaphorical spear right through my pretense as she crunched on her toast and marmalade.
"When you look through the years and see what you could have been ... what might have been if you'd had more timeAnd when I got home I blogged this crap just to make sure I was actually there.
So when the day comes to settle down, who's to blame if you're not around?
You took the long way home ... "
But life also offers other forms of vindication if even by way of an imaginary race you ran by yourself.
Turns out I missed a text yesterday from the Guru who is having doubts that God in fact exists.
Wonder what took him so long?
Ps. Welcome home Guru.