I can’t believe it. William was a classmate of mine at Lyons Township High School over 60 years ago.
William was smart. Not so much me.
William was popular, like class-president popular. Not so much me.
Beautiful girls fawned over William. Not so much me.
BUT… I was a good, creative writer. Not so much William.
So I thought. Then I get this response out of the blue from William sharing his response to my blog post, “What’s it all about, Alfie?”
William is getting on my nerves… again. You be the judge.
“What’s it all about?” by William Slebos
Not stuff, or at least most of it. That’s easy to say with food on my table, a roof over my head, my own bed, healthcare around the corner.
Gratitude comes to mind. It doesn’t matter to whom or what I’m grateful. Gratitude leaves in its path the space for humility that is so necessary in pursuit of the meaning of my life.
Surety based in trials and on life while knowing that my experience is just that: my experience – no one else’s, nothing more or less, the guardrails of my being.
Kindness is the indelible treasure. It marks the receiver forever. It is the deepest pocket into which I can reach. I am either kind or I am not. It is a toggle and can be in the on position almost all the time.
Loving the people around me. Allowing them to help me.
Sticking up for myself, especially with the medical community. If I am not my own advocate, I don’t have one.
Paying attention to what’s going on that I care about. I can make choices about to what I will give and not give my diminishing number of days.
Being quiet. Solitude. Julia and I are the caretakers of each other’s solitude.
Family. Always.
Friends. Always.
Still being alive and trying to be and do good.
Acceptance of inevitability.
P.S. I forgot to mention always having at least one dog living with you.
One word