Touchstones

My high school closed.  Not recently, it actually happened a few years back.  Aging building and declining population all contributed to it’s demise.  But I’m reaching one of those seminal years, not saying which one, where my former classmates and I gather to reminisce.  However my school is not only closed, a good part of it is demolished.  And a few years ago, my parents took over my room for their expanded bathroom and closet.  So when I go home for said reunion, the room where I spent my formative years is gone.  The door now leads to a linen closet.  The sanctuary that I retreated to, the place where I shut out my oh-so-annoying brothers and sisters, the door I slammed with all the angst ridden drama I could muster, is no more.  It’s now a sanctuary for sheets and towels.  I often tease my Mother when queried, that of course I am going to sleep in my room.

Then a few months back, my company was closed.  A firm that had existed for close to 50 years was shuttered.  Kaput.  I started getting concerned.  It’s as if a giant eraser was sweeping over the blackboard of my life, erasing any evidence that I had indeed been a part of these things.  In some ways, erasing my very existence.  See, I still have angst ridden drama in me.  Anywho, it’s unsettling to say the least.  If you chose to look at it that way.  Not so fast Mr. Eraser.  On an intellectual level, I get that change is inevitable and shouting at the wind isn’t going to alter that one bit.  And that change is very uncomfortable.  But within all the chaos, I have a choice to either be a victim of the change or a victor over the change.  It’s definitely easier to sit on my tukhus and whine but it’s going to be the same when I’m done with the drama.  The big giant eraser is going to continue to alter my future by changing the past.  I just need to keep changing my perspective.

I’ll be in my linen closet.

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