Of all elaborate plans

One more day and it will be another milestone birthday. This seems to be the worst. It is not that the destination is a source for all that is depressing, yet it is the uneventful, unremarkable, torturously bland journey by which I have arrived at this milestone that rankles me so.

As my friend IBJ insists, it is but another number, one that can be played or repainted on or molded into another shape to view as wondrous or insignificant as we please. He actually used more readily repeatable words of “Broa, shut-up. It’s just a number.” However the gist is just as memorable, I can’t focus on the number, but a milestone is reached non-the-less and for my memory being waned or failing I am unable to claim many goals attained by this passing day.

{Each New Year is another year gone for me, some say it is one of those false birthdates listed by immigrants, but whether it be January 1st or July 4th, an other year passes despite, in spite}

It is not so much the day, more the past days. What have I found along this journey, what will be found in my continued quest, and what is my final destination? My journey began more remarkable than it ends, with the obligatory marks set at college degree, employment, marriage, children and the like. Sure there was the brief stint on an illuminated trail, but no revelation, no discovery, no history and worst, no dreams realized. On the eve of a new year, my friend comments that you either are who you want to be or were never meant to be that person. Troubling words. As cryptic as they may be, they will haunt me. What am I? Who was I to be? Is this all? What determines who you are?

Is it even a question of quality of journey verses a value of destination, where is the emphasis? And if the destination is lacking in luster, will the journey fade in brilliance? Conversely, is a miserable trek rewarded? Surely in an after life, but will it in this?

By being who I am now at this stage in my life, it seems that this is exactly who I was meant to be. Or have I missed some turn? Optimistically, the journey has not ended, yet. There may be another turn up ahead. Pessimistically, I will fail to recognize it once more, or be reluctant to take it leading to a far more eventful journey. Then I may be who I was meant to be.

That story can still be filmed,
That book can still be written,
This life can still be extinguished before that turn appears.
Well, another number awaits my arrival, happy birthday to me.