Growing past 32

I've always felt as if 32 was a comfortable age for me. It seemed my whole sophomore existence was a painful stretch to that particular age, while every year since has been I constant reminder that I have to move on.

However; many, many years later, I still feel 32.

Today - I sit in meetings, and speak. I'm in awe that people actually listen. I feel like someone who sounds like me is throwing his voice from my seat; that like a ventriloquists dummy, someone else is pulling the strings; my take is simply to be there and breathe. I am stunned that the obvious things I say can set others writing furiously on their note pads. I wonder what they write? I wonder what goes through their heads while I'm winging it.

Something happened, and here we all are; traveling through time at the speed of life. Some on their way to their 32, others trying like hell to hold on to something real.

Being grown up should mean having more answers. Being grown up should give you an inner calm, an inner peace. Instead my aching left knee has started clicking and my once dislocated right thumb cant hold my drum stick properly. I'm confronted, and confused by the myriad of optional paths to take. Some days I feel I should have many more answers, when all I can offer is a hug. 'Though in fairness - the hugs have come to mean a lot.

If being grown up means knowing you don't have all the answers, perhaps being older still will bring with it the realization we know nothing. That, and the only way through this is with each other, and perhaps a fair amount of denial.

Maybe the important thing is when push comes to shove, you'll be prepared to wing it. Come along with me - It could be one hell of a ride.