A Day in the Life of Chaos

There is an agent in my office named Alex. He is young, approximately 29 or 30. He is about to have a child with his wife. A young little creature is expected to make his presence known in this world in a week or two. Alex is the same age I was when I went to Bolivia and had a child of my own. When I see him it reminds me of those days. Being young and trying to establish your place in the world. Becoming a father. At that time of life I had just met two close friends who I have stayed in touch with throughout my life. Both were significantly older than me. Alfredo was less, probably six years older than me. Ira was much more senior.   Our age difference was more like 24 years. By the time you hit your late 20’s and move into your 30’s you realize that age doesn’t mean so much anymore. When you are young it is everything and then its magnified. In your teens a friend more than a year or two from your age is almost inconceivable. A person more than 10 years older seems

As we age bit by bit, soul by soul those that we know or better said that we knew go away.  Where they go is a subject for a different conversation.  Some will tell you heaven others will tell you dirt.  Truth be told these are philosophical questions much larger than my humble mind can ponder.  I can say that birth to life to death is a natural progression of organic life and it is only logical that those we cross paths with in life will at some point cease to exist.  While logical in the course of human events it still doesn't make the event any less painful. I don't understand what happens to some people when they grow old. Sometimes it seems like something changes in the mind.  I don't know if it is a way of compensating for the eventual reality or if it is a reflection of true emotions.  Perhaps this is one of the things that makes it so difficult.  In my life and family I have had considerable experience with this phenomenon. It started with a dysfunctional relation

Last night I dreamed of my mother. Of course we all dream of our mothers yet mine has been dead now for eleven years. It was one of those dreams where she seemed so real. I could speak to her and for a few hours or maybe minutes, I felt like she was still alive. I wonder if dreams are a gift or a torture. Do they help us remember or resolve conflicts in our mind? When my mother passed away from cancer I had so many mixed feelings. So many unresolved issues that could never be resolved. Yet some how, in the face of loss, the issues didn't seem so important anymore. If I could give anyone advice that has a parent still living it would be to find a way to set aside the anger. Your chance to know a person you have taken for granted for most of your life is so fleeting, don't waste it. Don't let it escape your grasp. Unfortunately we are all likely to repeat the same mistakes. It seems that so often the qualities that we love and admire about a person are not