Late Night Ramblin'

I'm going to open with what should be the closing. Because it's the most important thing about this post.

Typical BSer house evening ends with me moving Alya out of our bed and into hers. Tonight, when that happened, she woke up a bit to check she had the correct woobie in the bed (bear, not pink) and I confirmed that it was indeed the correct one. Satisfied, she curled up and went back to sleep as I placed the important stuffed animals next to her. As I walked out I said, "Good night, Squirrel." and closed the door.

Often I don't speak when putting either kid in bed, but Alya had already pulled a response on woobie, so I knew it wouldn't hurt the sleep process.

That little verbalization choked me up a bit because I'm thinking that to them both every night, and eventually I won't be tucking these small ones into bed. And they mean the world to me. Everything else I've done, does not come to this level.

Which leaves the question, "What next?"

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I started reading The Player of Games by Ian M. Banks a day ago. The main character is a game player. Like someone who is a professional chess player, only with as many games as he likes and that's all he does. Only he's at a crisis point because he's bored. What's next in his path because he has played and beaten just about everything.

Meanwhile, my world of games has been odd. My board games are getting dustier. Magic cards are floating around all over the place, but a change would be needed to really hone my skills on that one. I have many miniature games in foam trays, needing assembly, paint and a chance to fight on the battlefield. But there's no gaming passion. Nothing that pulls my attention constantly like a mongrel on a bone.

While sitting on the basement step, I couldn't help but see my stack of Japanese language instruction loaded on a shelf. It defines me, but the motivation is no longer present. Perhaps I should be clearing that all off and resign that goal for now. Like the guitar in the close, learning either would be a major growth undertaking, but both are also previous paths that were never finished.

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The final item of the evening - a year book from Pius XI High School. 1988 to be precise.

At Manpower I walk through the building and know about 1/4 to 1/3 of the people. Not personally, but recognize them either through my own times there or through Sasha's work.

That ratio is much lower in my yearbook. Then again my class had well over 400 students in it and I was never a true social butterfly.

Things that kept cropping up in the words written by others, "I didn't really know you until this year." "You're funny and strange." "Sorry I hit you in the head with a pen." Okay, that last one not so much. Some of the words written triggered a small bit of sadness. Relationships unexplored. Relationships explored and ruined at a latter time. Friendships that were acquired a little too late in the game to be able to maintain. Or distances, written by one as "We are going our separate ways in search of... A PARTY", creating that gulf making the connect difficult to maintain.

But no regret.

High school (and soon college) is half a life away for me now. While knowing where people are today (thank Facebook) is neat, that's over 20 years ago. I've got too much future going on to keep living in the past. (Although a few ghosts do loom from time to time.)

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There's a song out now called, "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros that has really grabbed my ears. I was playing it for the kids on the drive to their daycare, and during the speaking portion (listen to the song, it's that good) I talked to Alya and Marcus about what was happening that day and night and how I love them both so very much.

The line from the song that sticks is, "Home is where ever I'm with you." So when I went to Manpower Saturday where Sasha was putting in extra hours, Alya told her, "I'm happy to be home." Sasha was a little puzzled and asked if home was Manpower. "No, home is when we're all together."

That's my squirrel.

And that's my "What's next?" for the next 20 years of my life.

Be seeing you,

Jon