Monday, March 23

On Time

Fleeting, fickle, and deceiving.

I struggle silently with many things, we all do.  For me, the focal point seems to stay the same: time. Eventually we will all succumb to it, but not before having been molded into a thousand different versions of ourselves.  Sometimes the change is immediate and lasting, oftentimes for the better but not always.  Sometimes the change is gradual, going unnoticed until we take stock in who we've been, who we are now, and just how far we've come.

There's not enough, there's too much.  I can't seem to strike a balance or reach an accord.  I don't get to see the kids it seriously not their bedtime yet?   I haven't fished in weeks...I should probably leave the river and get to know my family again.   Have I really been reading this same book for 2 months...I started this god damned book yesterday, I need more!  I'll visit my aunt next month...I wish I would've taken the time to drop by.

We are nearing trout opener and I'm nearing my 30th birthday.  It's been a seemingly long winter, bitter cold, unforgiving.   My first 30 years have been tenuous at best.  On a good day I was a poor decision maker...on a bad day, I had to put that "one phone call" to damn good use.  My late teens and early twenties were a battleground.   Later, a new father trying to reconcile a sense of wild invincibility with responsibility.   Not an easy task, nor one that I've found success after the first try. Or second.  Or countless others.  When I look back at the last 6, almost 7 years of being a father, humility is what comes to mind. I've learned more about myself through the eyes of my 2 children than I did in the first 25 years without them.

On the hunt for early chrome

I don't necessarily care about being "30", nor do I necessarily care about "trout opener"...I fish for trout all year.  But they are both torch holders for the same monster, the same sirens call.  Both ominously indicative of the same plague, the same good fortune that befalls us all...time.  They are both a mile marker on my hasty, clumsy journey I will never quite understand.

Contentment? I love to tell myself that my ultimate goal is be truly satisfied. And often times, I am. Is it often enough?

I approach my symbolic 30th like I approach the symbolic trout opener. With the unvoiced, reluctant hope that I will find what I'm looking for. That place where reality and a trout stream collide. And if I plan it just right...a setting sun, a rising trout, and a contented heart.

                                                 Aubri and her "Papa" headed to the river

 Chase contentment, chase trout.

 -Ian Bancroft