I finished "This Much I Know Is True" by Wally Lamb as my second flight of the day last Friday was sitting on the runway waiting to depart. Just as I finished the last few words I realized that this book was about me.
It had been so easy to let anger and frustration in their many forms of expression steal away some of the most amazing people and moments of my life that I had been doing exactly that for as long as I could remember – far back into the very earliest years in my mind. That realization, and the my own understanding that I didn't want to lose any more snapped inside of me. The mourning of the loss of so many years and all the people I'd hurt and all the moments I'd ruined and all the pain I'd kept inside mixed in my head and chest with the newness that comes with the promise of happiness.
Just then we started to move. A little girl from the back of the plane shouted out "HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOO!", bringing it all together and a smile to my face simultaneously. Then, at long last, we left. I've missed so much. But it's never too late to try again.
I left the little notebook that I keep all of my mental ramblings in when the mood strikes me on that flight. I'm pretty sure it was that flight, anyway. I'm trying not to let that get to me.
