half way

In the thick of it,

Half way through

At the center, up come the many whats in all the what to do

It seems that no matter whom I speak to, my peers and I are all in some form of quandary, not just for ourselves but for all whom we care for and are there for. 
No one is falling down, but there are many times when we seem to feel like just lying down.  
Life is apparently hardest once you reach the half way mark.  
Boo hoo for  our collective  "midlife cry-sis".

It's practically epidemic, the woes, worries, loads and lessons.
Like crossing a tightrope, once at the center, you're most vulnerable.
And hey, shouldn't we be more practiced by now with all the tightroping, now that we've reached the mid mark of this journey cross our lives?   
Perhaps it makes sense that we're typically less burdened at the start and at our end?
Maybe we're better at this life/work/stuff then we realize...
They say that we are never given more then we can handle and if thats so, then I'm likely to become one hell of a juggler.
Life sounds more and more like a circus.  
I'd like a bear on a motorcycle in that case.

And there are parts of this grown-up bracket/racket that I do like.   Its not all stress and strife.   I can see the greatness in all of it, even when I pretend that I can't.  Sometimes it's sweeter for the trouble it takes to get past the hard candy shell and to the softer center.  Kinda like an Oreo, crusty and dark on the exterior, but not at all terrible or bad really and then the good goo in between, well it's just the best part.  Midlife is not all milk and Oreo dunking though, in fact it rarely is, which is quite possibly also good, considering my physical middle and how I have to work on that area more then ever just to maintain.

I wouldn't trade away a day of my one and only life, not even trying middle days.  I am, however, awfully comforted to find that I'm not alone.  
Luckily I'm stuck in the midlife with you...

falling

Trapped in NYC, luckily someone she knew, a nice, young buyer from the small world of fashion in which she worked, was kind enough to offer her a place to sleep.  After all, there was a second bed in his hotel room.   She located and purchased a pair pantyhose at a quickie mart.  In the dimly lit, unusually still city night,  she eventually came upon a restaurant with open doors.  All they had to offer was one meal.   They served spaghetti with tomato sauce to everyone.  The TV was on, quiet talk ensued, shock marred the patrons solum faces.  When our President appeared and spoke on the news, all of New York fell silent.  
This was my first account, the true tale of my very close friend who survived the World Trade Center attack on September 11th years ago.

"Did that really happen Mom?"

What do I say to them?   Do I tell my children who ask me to explain what I know about the catastrophe of 9/11, which happened only miles from where I lived most of my life, "Heck no, the Wickersham brother's took the speck from Horton and held it over the boiling pot, threatening to drop it in, but the people of Whoville, called out louder, "We are here, We are here!".

It really happened.
I'm really telling the truth; the whole, sad, unreal, fantastical truth.

When it happened, I remember how I found out, precisely what time it was and how I felt and what exactly I did I after I learned about it, but it wasn't until I read notes from the folks I knew who survived it and how heroically they behaved, how those who were less fortunate had fallen and how their families were left to pick up the shards of what remained and how they dealt with the fragments of their once intact lives, that it became real to me.

Growing up outside of New York City, one of the hardest things I faced in my youth was choosing the Yankee's over the Mets and Giants over the Jets.  Sneaking into Discotheques long before I was legal drinking age and becoming a willing slave to fashion were natural side effects from living too close to the center of the world.  Never did I imagine it would all come crashing down.   Oh how the mighty had fallen.

I love New York and there's no place like it...
(that slogan from the 80's meant to remind people to visit the Big Apple, still rings true for me today.)

In memory of 9/11 and of those I knew and loved or liked and some of whom I kissed.

For you - "Lets roll"...  Let us roll forward for you.