We Love What We Love

We moved on Christmas Eve, the year I turned five. Nettie bought my brother a stack of used 45's, me a yard sale tricycle and we got a patch of grass with some woods in front of the apartment. This after having a huge back and front yard in the house James - my father - built for us. Nettie told me if I peddled good and slow I could go anywhere I wanted. "Anywhere I wanted" extended only to the patch of grass and woods in front of the apartment but still, it was freedom. A five year old's version of the "open road". That was probably the last vehicle I got really attached to, until my green Cavalier which I bought in 2001 brand new and totaled in 2010. I cried at the car lot when getting my things out of it. Her poor little bumper hanging off her face like a broken smile. 

We love what we love. For some people it's the first grade crush, or the ninth grade crush. For others, it's a tricycle, the wrong guy or the New York Mets. For some of us, it's unreachable; something we've maybe never even had before. And we know that even if we reach it, pull it close, and make it ours, it won't last. It won't but we keep on. It doesn't matter if it's a tricycle, or the wrong guy, or the New York Mets, It doesn't matter what we reach for. What matters...is the reaching. 

Character is Destiny

 

I like the sound of three word phrases; "Fools rush in", "Greed is good", "Character is destiny". That one comes up a lot when people are staring down the barrel of starting a whole new life. In the witness protection program, they take the witness's documents, jewelry, pictures, they take it all. And as much as the witnesses know they have a chance to start fresh, I keep a stash of photographs on my computer of a man who said he cared, said I was important, and said that I was in good hands, and then never showed up in person before leaving for good. Witnesses can't hold on to anything. They are lucky if they get to keep their secrets.   

For the chronic do gooder, for the happy go lucky sociopath, for the dysfunctional family, under the gun, everyone reverts to who they are. We may hunger to map out a new course, but for most of us, the lines have been drawn since we were five.