My mom just reacted to a spill in the fridge like she found a dead body.

The Future is No Place to Place your Better Days

On a walk in the neighborhood behind Dorset Park, I saw two kids on skateboards in the street. A girl and a boy, 8 and 10, stood still by the bend in the road as I approached in my chair on the sidewalk. Both of them watched carefully as I passed.

I wanted to talk to them; I wanted to tell them so many things it almost brought me to tears. The kinds of things that I wish I'd heard, really heard, growing up and throughout life.

Have fun. Be kids. Appreciate everything you can do, because there may come a day when it's taken away. I used to be like you.

Go inside; tell your parents what I'm saying. Live your lives. Think about what's happening in your life and whether you want something different. It's okay to be afraid. Talk about your fears with your family and friends; bring them out in the open and see if they are real or imagined. You don't know everything: don't be afraid to ask questions, and listen to the answers. Don't let your fear of embarrassment make decisions in your life. Trust your instincts: go for it. You don't want to end up like me, full of regrets; I can promise you that. 

I want to tell every kid, from grade school to college and beyond, all of the lessons I learned too late. Every day I wish I had a second chance. Though you've likely never given it any thought, there might not be another day. Today is the day.

 A mango, a beer, and a doughnut: tonight's nighttime snack.

I really can't yell. And sometimes you need to yell. 

I haven't had caffeine in over three months.

I haven't had more than one beer in over a year.

I don't even remember the last time I got stoned.

I do remember the last time I had sex, and it was a long time ago.

I would like to do one or all of these things.

I am in the unbelievably depressing position of having to appoint a guardian for myself, in the case that my parents pass before me. 

What do you think?

I've been writing a lot of stories for my book: trying to remember the details, researching the dates, and describing how I felt. 

Sidebar, if you're driving down a dirt road and you see someone in a wheelchair stopped on the side of the road waiting for you to pass, slow down; I can't jump out of the way.

Like stories for my blog, I've focused on what happened, and what was going through my head when it happened. But I haven't discussed how it makes me feel now, looking back on it. And I think that's a big part of the overall picture.

I spent a few days writing about a canoe camping trip in 2010. It's a story I've meant to write for a while, and for this purpose I tried to keep it short, though it turned out longer. I think back on those days and there's so much to say.

Over the years I've had more and more things taken from me. Last year it was my house and car. Before that it was walking long distances, or really anywhere outside. Before that it was hiking, and biking, and running, and skiing, and golfing, and drinking at a bar, and so many other things. 

Don't you want to be there?

I've been feeling trapped, anxious, and frustrated. I need to get away. I need to unplug. I look back on four days in the woods, paddling a canoe, making camp each day. Moving from Point A to Point B without smartphones and newsfeeds and Facebook and email and all the other BS that makes up daily life.

I can't put into words how much I miss times like that. The last thing I lost that came anywhere near that sense of freedom, of independence, was driving. After I couldn't run, or bike, or walk in any meaningful way, I could still drive. I've talked about that feeling you get after a hard workout or competition. I think the feeling I got driving the country roads alone in the middle of the afternoon, or pounding down a dirt road with high beams blazing through the night; I think that's the last time I felt anything like that.

What do you think? In a book about the past, does it make sense to reflect in the present? I've already given a sense of the present, specifically with the phrase "I don't remember..." in place of a detail. But I've tried to keep the reader in the moment. Should I? Do you really want me to reflect on the story you've just finished reading? Hmm, I don't know; I need your help.