A Raw Sketch on Yom Kippur
By a Soul with Sixty Winters Under His Belt
So, there’s this whisper around—perfect life is the gig where you’re your own guest. No plus ones.
Does this hold any water? I’m a soul with sixty winters, and it’s still a puzzle to me.
What’s in my head? Just that life’s a high-quality collection of prime disappointments.
I yearned for love, a crew, some pals, and what’s the deal? I used to dance through life solo, with my expectations playing the lone tune.
Love, in my books, was the endless jam; but, oh look, it had its final track.
Work, in my dreams, would be the big feast; turned out to be just another bite.
Life, in my eyes, would be a fair trade; but it’s a grab bag of odds and ends.
So, I switched my expectations to a solo of self-reliance.
It’s a tough gig, but maybe the best I’ve rolled with.
Feeling lighter, airier.
Not because I trimmed the expectation list, but ‘cause there’s no sting when they don’t make the cut.
Life, it’s a blend of lows and highs, a pick from the menu.
Me, I’m picking the highs.
Want a taste of joy? Cook your expectations just for your taste buds.
And if it gets a pinch of sorrow, no sweat; it’s just another spice in the life mix.
But here’s the real deal…
She’s my partner, a blend of grit, strength, courage, and allure. My daily dose of joy.
My kid, outshining me in smarts and skills, is my push to level up.
And my furry buddy, a daily dose of giggles.
So, is the flawless life a solo dish? Still figuring it out. But I know, life’s richer when shared with the ones who light up your world.