A Life Yet Lived

A Life Unlived

Some nights there is a storm stirring in my soul that makes me wish that the day would never end. Maybe it's due to a sense of unfinished business, like I have left something on the table, but regardless, on nights like these I prefer to lay awake in my bed and daydream about a life that never was. I lay stretched out, flat on my back and stare into the darkness of the room with only the echoes of the crickets ringing in my ears as I wander off into that parallel time that exists only in my head. I spend the twilight in solitude, exploring the worlds of make believe and reality, mixing and contorting them in ways to stretch my imagination until I am satisfied enough to finally drift off to sleep, but before I do, these visions must pass through the realm of my mind like clouds of a midnight front rushing across the sky, only to be seen by those who stay awake at this late hour and search the stars.
On one particular night, my daydream started off with me simply sitting on a park bench. It is the type of day that comes at least once in February; one of those unusually warm days that give just a glimpse into what spring will bring in a month or two. Occasionally, a walker will pass by and give a gentle nod of his head or maybe even a "Lovely weather we are having.", but otherwise I am left alone to ponder my thoughts. As I sit for a while, I can feel my crossed feet as they stretch out before me. I breathe into each of my limbs and the air surges through my body from the top to the bottom and back up again.
I survey the horizon from left to right, taking in all of my surroundings. There is a black fence surrounding the park and to my right is the gate for the entrance from Main Street and greeting everyone who enters it is a concrete monument that says "Welcome to City Park". Behind the monument is a large live oak whose base is encompassed by azaleas that are waiting for April so they can display their blooms of pink and white. The massive branches from the tree expand outward, serving as temporary shade during the afternoon as well as something to climb on for the more daring children. From the entrance there is the sidewalk that continues in from the street, goes under the old oak, past the bench where I sit, and proceeds on around the acres that make up the park.  In front of me are the play-sets; one a large structure that contains a high tower with two giant curving slides traversing down in a curved angle along with a series of walkways, a climbing wall, and some monkey bars. The other play-set contains swings and a merry-go-round that also doubles as a ship. The playing children run back and forth from one set to the other, giving off an incomprehensible chatter that reminds me of blackbirds perched in a newly bare pecan tree during the fall. On the other side of the play-set is an open space of grass where the older kids play kickball and soccer. As I watch, I want to jump up and join them, but knowing it is better off as a dream, I let out a quiet sigh instead and continue with my observations.
Just beyond the grassy space is the splash park that has been turned off since early September. A child is wandering close to the button that releases the water and his mother, who is completely aware of his intentions, calls out to him, "Jimmy, get away from there!". Unaware of why he should not start the water on such a warm day, it takes a second call from her to convince him to abandon this dream, which he easily concedes, knowing this is only temporary until the summer comes. As I sit admiring this fine day, a breeze brings with it the smells of man coinciding with nature from across the small town; rotting leaves in a pile leftover from the fall, smoke from a grill of a little Greek restaurant, the smell of wet wood coming in from the docks on the bay, diesel exhaust from a passing delivery truck. From below, I can smell the dew rise from the fresh earth as it evaporates in the midday sun. Suddenly, the sound of someone to my left caught my attention, brings my focus back to my being, and I realize that I have been here for half of the day.
Maybe I should go for a walk? Nope. I'm too tired. Maybe I should have a little daydream instead?
I wonder if I should dream that I am the captain of a ship or perhaps a hermit living in a far off land in the hills, surrounded by the hardwoods of the north and away from the familiar pines of the southern gulf coast. Settling in, I begin to think more about this when my mind strays off course and I start to wonder about this life we are given, yet only to have it eventually taken away. Why, if this consciousness is such a gift, do we let other forces choose our direction instead of grasping to it so tightly that we squeeze the juices from it until we lay in our deathbed, satisfied to hold only the pulp that remains? Is the path of least resistance so strong that it wills us to follow it without putting up a fight?
I continue on and think of how I live like a leaf skipping down the road, caught in a gentle breeze that I cannot escape from. I look inside myself and try to dig up the wondrous feelings I had of this world as a boy, but the only thing I can find are the memories. Suddenly having an urge to write these thoughts down so I never forget again, but I realize that I am without a pen and paper, so I stop wondering about life and go back to my daydream.
I picture myself lying in bed while the purple light of daybreak makes its way through the blinds and in the distance I can hear a flock of geese calling out as they fly to their next destination. As I look out of the window, I realize that the 'me' in the park is now dreaming of the 'me' right here in this bed and I wonder if there is a point which I can know which one is real and which one is the daydream. I decide to take hold of the helm and imagine that the 'me' in the park imagines the 'me' right here getting up to get a pen and paper; and this I did. Next I imagined that the 'me' in the park was imagining that the 'me' right here sat at a desk with the pen and paper and began to write about what I was daydreaming about. I sat and began to write about all that I had lost and loved and lived and perhaps never lived but wanted to and this continued on every morning thereafter. Each morning, I awoke invigorated, spending the day toiling at my desk and writing all that I have ever thought about and hoped for. I was never distracted nor did I stray from my task as I had done in times before. I wrote as though this world was real and the other was imagined and back and forth I went in my mind as though both lives were in a box and I could just take each one out at will to examine it, like crystal balls kept hidden in a secret place that only I knew of.
I loved this dream so much that I kept imagining it each night. I would wake before dawn to sit at my desk and write about the wonder of what life held, tasting it as if it were all happening at that moment, hearing the sounds of why and how, relishing its very existence and imagining how I felt when I lived in that moment although I perhaps never had. From this point on I could not tell if it were a life I had lived or on the verge of living, but I wrote about it so I could keep each story forever and tuck them away in that secret place only to pull them out whenever I wanted to enjoy them. I wrote like this for months until one day, when winter had subsided, I awoke just before dawn as I had been doing, sat at my desk and thought about what it was that I wanted to write about, but I found that I had nothing left. It was as though the reservoir was tapped dry and I needed to refill it.
Viewing the night sky as it welcomed the light rising from the east, I realized that I had not left the house the entire time I lived this daydream, so I went to the sink, washed my face, put on my khakis and a fresh shirt, got my jacket from the closet and walked out into the fresh air of the morning. I made my way down the sidewalk until I got to the black gate, passed the concrete monument sitting under the oak that said "Welcome to City Park", and continued down the walk until I reached the bench. As I sat down, I stretched my feet out in front of me and crossed my legs. Looking around, I sat content with life and observed the grand gestures of the world as they unfolded before me, gathering inspiration, and counting the blessings of life, all while living in a daydream.