Hands

I am returned from a trip out west and I have had maybe three hours of sleep in four days. I just had my heart handed to me still beating. Just a few days ago...and I win and lose big. That thing about Superman and Kryptonite is a good metaphor. A guy can feel so strong and positive, so in touch with the world and so happy, so impervious to the whims of so many others, but there is always one person who owns him, brings out the worst in him, makes him dance and gyrate and spin on some sort of moody hope, only to toss him to the side with mumbled insincere apologia. So what makes us go back? Kids. Family. Hope. My only model is the family that battles through it all together. This is about as relevant as the Model T in today's world. Everyone wants and thinks they deserve an upgrade. There is no growth together anymore. See my old hat there on my head? This is the only home I have ever really had. The day lasts only as long as the night will allow. The clouds pass overhead and it rains. Some of us never will allow the old models to die. That's why there are still trains. I am slow, reliable and loyal. I am the old oak tree that gets torn down for the flashy new development. I look at this in my life. From here it seems so harsh and so cruel. Fortunately, I am from an intrepid people. I can be torn down to the roots, and I only grow stronger. Just from here it feels as if nothing in my life has meaning but my fatherhood. We all know there is not much respect for that.