Although we tend to proclaim, overflowing with tearful indignation, “I was the last to know!”, I don’t buy it. Looking back on it all, I think that every time that bitter wind began to cause pimply goosebumps on the back of my neck, fine hairs rising to attention, I knew. Every time I was pushed slowly but surely off the shelf of, “My Favorite Toys,” falling gently into a gnarled mess of computer wires and prehistoric dust, I knew. Every time I was no longer the prodigal crayon drawing occupying the best place on the refrigerator, as I was sailing slowly towards the trash bin, I knew. Every time I was not the only likely candidate for the front seat, not the treasured possession that could only be touched with clean hands, not the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning…I knew. I would be lying to myself if I made believe now that I didn’t see it coming, a freight train roaring in the distance.
I suppose that there is a sort of defense mechanism that makes us selectively blind in situations that we do not feel strong enough to stomach, but I think that in our blindness, we do know. With some relationships, you can already taste the end before the first kiss. With other situations, you can create such fabulous lies, you can write such a tremendous story of how and why in order to somehow avoid looking the obvious right in the face. Your own fairy tale gives you a head-start, leaving the impending doom a ways behind you. Not very far of course. Close enough. Like fucking Christmas. Tax time. Monday morning.
I guess that is all I have to say about that for now. I don’t have any solutions. I see no way to brace myself for what will be, nor what has already happened, but I will not be a crying victim who doesn’t know how the hell everything is so very fucking temporary, because it just is. Life is temporary.