I am the soul that lives within.
―Rumi
Finding a Way
I realized ever since I've been going through this ordeal, or for want of a better word, this mid-life crisis―I might as well call it what it is―I haven't had time for my writing. I've been so caught up in my own angst I've forgotten to be me.
I used to enjoy the solitary life, staying up late tapping out stories on my laptop with Albert, my Muse Cat, lying beside me. Those were bitter-sweet times with a fire burning in the grate while I wrote my blog-for-pay post in lieu of working on my novel.
I suppose that in itself was defeatist. I had given up on my dream of being a published author and settled instead on writing short pieces and posting them on various sites that paid for well-written submissions.
I actually led two lives―an everyday one where I taught the 19th century novel and a virtual one, where I dreamt a lucid dream of an alternative reality and published my efforts anonymously using a pen name.
If Storm Saunders, the beautiful young lecturer in my department ever discovered what florid fancies I was writing about her, I'd be humiliated and embarrassed. It was sad but inevitable in a way because she was 15 years my junior and certainly not interested in me, at least not in a romantic sense, although she did like to talk with me.
Once did we meet outside of work, when I chanced upon her in a mall and asked if she'd care for a drink. We spent a pleasant hour chatting amiably, mostly about work, and then she had to cut the night short because of an early morning staff meeting.
She said politely, we should do it again, but of course the occasion never presented itself.
But that was then and this is now and I'm left alone with my fantasies.
I've been musing on this sad tale of a wasted life while driving home from the university. It's close to five pm and the time when I promised Cindy, my new jogging acquaintance, we'd meet at the cut-off near my townhouse.
I don't feel much like jogging, but a promise is a promise.
I just have time enough to get home, change into my jogging attire and put out kibble and fresh water for Albert. He meows and rubs his body affectionately against my legs so I have to pick him up and hug him. Why the sudden burst of affection I wonder? Maybe I've been neglecting him being so caught up with my own distress I haven't spent time with him.
"We'll write later by the fire," I promise, but knowing how preoccupied I've been with myself lately, I seriously doubt I'll be able to write anything.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come," Cindy calls out to me as I draw near to her.
"Sorry, I'm running late and my tabby decided I've been neglecting him lately. Guess I was feeling guilty because I've been caught up in other things."
"No problem," she smiles, "animals are like children―sometimes they need us."
I look at her in the lengthening afternoon shadows and realize how beautiful she really is―both outside and inwardly.
"Well, we better get started or we'll be jogging in the dark," I reply, but am touched by her remark. She seems a really nice person.
We jog for twenty minutes out and twenty minutes back. I'm surprised I'm able to maintain the pace. I'd usually need a ten minute rest at the halfway point.
When we get back to the cutoff I see she's not sweating or even breathing hard. "You must be a serious jogger," I tell her, "you seem in excellent shape."
"Thanks, " she smiles, "I teach Phys Ed at Mountainside High so I stay in shape, but this after-school run I do for me, to get out in nature and enjoy the fresh air."
"That makes sense, " I smile. "I'll try not to be late tomorrow."
"Here," she says, handing me a business card. "This has my cell number on it. If you can't make it, give me a call."
"Sounds like a plan," I laugh. "Have a nice night."
Again, she glides gracefully down the dirt trail in the direction of her street. It occurs to me she's beautiful and has given me her phone number, but whereas before, I'd be excited and eager to get to know her, I now am relatively unmoved. It's a weird response and totally unlike me.
I wonder what it means. Is this more my youthful mind exerting itself? I wonder.
After all these changes will I even know who I really am?