meaningless, i

there must be reasons, right? why we suffer? why we dream?

lately, i feel like i'm walking where there is no meaning, no why. the
easiest an best answer is, of course, my kids. always my kids. but
they are my entire world, and i know that is dangerous. it seems like
the time away from them is spent waiting for the next time with them.
there is little production, very little life outside of my time with
them.

when i'm with them i am busy building their wings, wings that will
take them away from me, away to lives of their own, and i will be left
with memories. what will i do then? what will i do when they no
longer need me and the time between visits become interminably long?
my father sings Cats in The Cradle to me often when we speak. i know
that my kids will be too busy with their own lives and households at
some point, and that i will fight for time with them. i know my turn
to sing will come.

i would like to think by then perhaps someone will have found me
worthy and lovable and if i have become little more than my kids'
safety net, at least this someone and i can focus on chasing whatever
dreams we've managed to hang onto through all of our years.

but.

that seems sometimes like some delusion, like some distant wish.

i just don't know what i'm doing.

ghost