I bumped into Brad at the Office the other night at my second office, AKA Ash Creek Saloon. I haven’t seen him much since the Yanks took it on the chin in September (or was it October?).
He ordered his usual… Coors Light, and I ordered my usual… some sippin’ whisky from Kentucky (no “e” in whisky please… we have to defer to the Scots who invented the idea).
We got caught up on news a bit and then talked about the upcoming baseball season. With our second round (actually it was his third or fourth), our gripes emerged in full colour.
So imagine it this way…
“I just had a real lousy day. Real bad. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. Murphy’s Law times ten. Have you had a day like that?”
“Do you want to compare notes? Compare the size of our scars? The amount of blood spilled?”
“That’s a contest that you or I really don’t want to win. There aren’t winners there. And to force a comparison would do a disservice to each of us.”
So there we are… comrades in arms traveling a crossed path, perhaps…
And you are at the end of a gruesome day… peeling off the adhesive tape that kept you together… each part of your body bruised and aching, blood mixed with dried sweat, your hand unable to stop its tremble. And the natural thought is, perhaps, I wish this day didn’t happen… I don’t want to be here now, I wish to be no where tomorrow. Please take me out of this.
I wish this day did not exist.
How many days do you accumulate like this over the course of a life time? And I have come to the conclusion that even one is one too many.
Our days here are already few in number… but a blink of an eye across the expanse of time.
So be careful about wishing to remove a day in your life… about wanting to make a block of time disappear…
For sure there will be a reckoning… and a time to move to the other side of the river. Do you really want to leave days on this side?
No. I don’t think so.
Hurt for the day, sure… but treasure the day, for you will never have another chance to live that day.
Treasure the day.