Looking Back

Stuck here at 53. Too early for a bucket list, too late for (another) professional renaissance. No, ’tis a time to pause and look back, to be grateful you weren’t stricken with an incurable childhood disease; didn’t become irreparably disfigured due to foolish and reckless teenage behaviors (many); managed to get into and out of college slightly above the bottom of class and find work doing something useful in order to pay back the loan you took out to train to do something useful (circular, I confess); did not descend into a well of permanent despair when wedded bliss soon turned blissless but instead sought counsel in the wisdom: “That which doesn’t kill us…”; did not allow oneself to become mentally idle or repeat mistakes (at least no unrecoverable ones); neither succumbed to profligacy nor was depleted by largesse but managed to save a few bucks; dismissed voices of incredulity (“Srsly, back to school at 42?”) and dared oneself; and most importantly did not turn away but lit up like fire on that fateful day when, by happenstance, a co-worker stepped into my office to ask me two life-changing questions: “Nibbe, are you dating anybody? Do you know a woman named Nancy?”