A man dreams of retirement and wonders if he can hold out until that day.
| What does a man do when he feels trapped within a confluence of circumstances from which, it seems, no amount of struggle will extricate him? How does he make through each grueling day? Oh, yes, grueling is a most appropriate choice of words, for such can as true of the mind as of the body. On such days he finds it difficult to peel back those protective covers from bones that ache and skin bruised from yesterday’s fall. But then, he sighs, and takes in the breath of a new day, wondering whether he can do what needs to be done yet one more time.
Throughout the day he most often faces each task with clinched teeth and sheer determination. He well knows he has little choice but to make it through, for where can he go, and what choice does he have but to survive. But he does wonder, at times, whether he really can survive. Of course, he knows that countless others have faced much greater challenges than those facing him. He is a man of books and history, and he feels somewhat ashamed when he recalls those who have faced the very specter of death and withstood him. His nemesis is hardly as frightening, though it often seems so. So, though he knows he faces a somewhat lesser foe, he wonders if such knowledge is enough to quiet his trepidations. Who knows, he muses, if those who faced much greater and more fearful apparitions were blessed with strength far beyond any he might possess. He marvels at how they were able to do it. But somehow they were able to do it, and he must understand how if he too is going to survive. Could their secret have been as simple as stepping from one day into another, and then another? But what of years, as they are so painfully long?
And, now, at least some light pierces the night of his dilemma. He will not conceive of his life in terms of years, but of days and weeks and months, and then, maybe of years. Yes, he will begin thinking in spans of days. So, for now, banish the thought of years. For, who knows, some secret concerning his freedom may be awaiting its revelation. What if he is ill and does not know it and the hour glass cannot be turned? He hadn’t thought of that. And, so, he will not think of that. Time is short enough as it is. For now he will summon his strength and enjoy the Sun just topping the trees in the distance. For what can he change by worry and fret; he can change nothing. But this one thing he does know, that things will remain what they are to be today, tomorrow, and the next day. His day will come no sooner or slower than providence intended. Today is what he will make of it. And he also remembers that famous line, “Tomorrow is another day.”