Opaque Lucidity

Paper and Fire

My dad is fond of saying that time goes by no matter what you do. It's something that I'm pretty fond of saying myself now, but it's not something that I take to heart very often. My life is full of half-finished things that could've made my life better. Time went by.

We received news last night that my brother-in-law (my wife's brother) and his wife are expecting their first child. This will be my in-law's first grandchild, and I'm sure the fatted calf will be slain. I'm happy for them, although time has shown me that most first-time parents have no idea that their life and their relationship is going to change fundamentally. The idea of parenthood has always scared me, but I remember my oldest brother telling me one time that this is a good thing; he would've been worried if I wasn't scared.

As with many things, this announcement makes me think of my (and Kelli's) own journey through life. She will graduate from college in May, a great accomplishment to be sure. But our lives are not that different than the day we got married: we live in the same house, have no children, etc. Sometimes, I look at this and think that it is this sameness that makes us stable. Boring, perhaps, but stable.

But I cannot escape the feeling that I am supposed to be doing something I'm not. There is some goal, some end that I am supposed to striving for. It is not here, at this job; somehow, this feels like a bus station on the way to the airport. I'm not saying that I am being called to do something great, for that is almost delusional and I don't believe that most great people in history set out to be great; they just had passion. I seem to have passion for nothing now, and I have to say that it worries me a little.