The Boxer

As a young man, my aspirations had me retired as a millionaire by now. Not being cut from job after job for nebulous reasons, always my fault. Not because I am pushing 60. Not because the skills I gained from a lifetime of meaningful employment has made me more savvy than the college grad who takes my job. Or the good-ole-boy who is a better 'fit' for the boss. Not out of fear that I have the experience to do my boss' s job, even without the desire to do so.

What the younger version of myself didn't understand while he was struggling through school, learning everything he thought he'd need to retire comfortably...The Road doesn't end. It narrows to a single lane, goes to gravel, then dirt. The dirt road snakes through the darkness, leading to the oblivion somewhere over the hill where falling trees make no sound.  Only there does The Road finally disappear in silence. Paul Simon says it best in "The Boxer".

In the clearing stands a boxer,
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving."
But the fighter still remains