December 23, 1991 was a pivotal day in my life. It was the day I left Puerto Rico and the U.S. Army for a new life.
That was 23 years ago, and I was 23 years old. It was half my life ago, almost to the day.
I never asked myself, ‘Greg, where do you see yourself when you’re twice as old?’ I never gave much thought to the future. By many accounts, not nearly enough.
I don’t think I could have imagined the life I have now at that time. I also find it hard to remember who that 23-year-old was or where the hell his head was at.
It seems so long ago now, it’s like another lifetime. All of the journeys I’ve encountered since then, all of the friendships, all the hardships, all of the painful lessons as well as the eye-opening discoveries, all of the roads travelled and the paths hiked, all of the songs sung and stories written, all of the beers brewed and beers consumed, the laughter, the tears, the resentment and the forgiveness, between now and then. I am not the same man.
I have the best job in the world now. I’m a father of two of the best people to ever walk this planet. That’s really what I do. Everything else is in support of that endeavor and nothing else is more important to me.
I had some really dark days following the aforementioned date. I had some really dark months actually, and had I been able to somehow receive advice from my 46-year-old self, I don’t really know what I’d have done differently. I mean, there were some stupid decisions I would like to take back, but those turned out to be merely temporary (although sometimes excruciatingly protracted) distractions from the bigger arc of my life which led me to where I am now.
Today we were forced to say goodbye to Mortimer, our cat. Mortimer was a female cat who was named while assumed to be a tom only later giving birth to a litter of five. She came into our lives roughly around 1995 and was with Penny and I since 1997.
When you’ve had a pet for such a long time, you can’t help but reflect when it passes. Mortimer lived with me for the vast majority of that 23 years since the Army days, so there are a lot of memories. Not that a cat can do many interesting, memorable things, but she was a member of the family long before it became a family. She has been there all along. And now she’s gone.
And it’s exactly 23 years later, and I’m finding myself posing the question ‘Greg, where do you see yourself in another 23 years?’
Well, I’ll be 69 … (chuckle). I’ll hopefully be retired and surrounded by family. I’ll hopefully be wiser still. Who knows, maybe I’ll have another cat.
