It’ll soon be Christmas

I do it deliberately, from 21st June onwards; “The nights are drawing in. It’ll soon be Christmas”. I do it to playfully wind those closest to me up, though sadly, they still don’t get me and I’m admonished for being negative and grumpy. While it’s funny to me to do it and see the reaction, there’s a truth behind it.

I find my life going far too quickly for my liking. Similar to a swan trying to take off. The seemingly long, slow, formative days of my youth trying to get airborne are now the almost supersonic, by comparison, days of flight, watching everything go by so quickly. It’s very difficult to seize each day with so much buzz and nonsense of every day living going on around us all the time. It’s even harder to naturally stop amongst it all and feel grateful for what you have and for just being here. Somewhat ironic I know. Being thankful for the very lifestyle and society that prevents you from being thankful.

The truth is of course, it’s now nearly September and the nights are drawing in. The long, light days of summer are disappearing at a rate of knots. The time of year is approaching where I historically get twitchy. I start to reflect on the summer that’s been. Have I spent enough days outside? Have I really seized each moment and made the most of it all? Will the sunburn marks from my swimming costume disappear in time for next summer? Without getting too deep, the seasonal year really does reflect the pattern of life, so it stands to reason that the thoughts and feelings it evokes are fairly existential, at least for me anyhow.

There must be some wise secret, more than likely kept by a man with a long white beard whom you can only find if you say the correct vague things to complete strangers. The secret must reveal how we are supposed to slow everything down enough to look around us and enjoy even the small things, while still having the ever-so-slight urgency of not actually being able to live forever. That is one of the secrets by the way. Don’t tell everyone. It’s about enjoying the small, simple things.

The truth that runs like a lame gazelle behind this seasonal merriment is that one of my only fears is wasting my one life that I’ve been given. Shrugging as another sun sets. Assuming tomorrow is a guarantee. It’s safe to say, I’ve got itchy feet and you’ll never catch me lounging around by a swimming pool unless (a) I’m 90; (b) just been dragged out by a lifeguard because he thought my atrocious attempt at breast stroke was actually me drowning, or (c) I’ve done a significant run already that day and I’ve earned my right to some laziness.

I like to feel like I’m making the most of my stay here. I love to feel alive. Having this feeling with me all the time influences all aspects of my life – the things I choose to do, the things I choose to reject also as well as the things I say and, equally, the reasons I keep silent. I don’t want to become one of these old gits that tells people off for being lazy but I do get frustrated by some of the younger people in my life that fritter away their time on such nonsense. But I know, to them, they do feel invincible. They have got years ahead of them you would assume, though I have seen that regret in their faces when they realise that they’re too old or too big now to do something that they used to. Surely all that screen time that I never had is a thief of so many aspects of their life. It just feels like such a waste. But I’m old. And boring. And socially irrelevant to them for many reasons. It seems to be a trend these days to reveal your toxic traits. This is probably mine – encouraging the young to bloody well live and make the most of what they have that so many don’t get. I used to think toxic traits were things like domestic violence or drinking too much. This is the 21st century where everything is upside down.

I write this on a Sunday morning. The sun is shining brightly and I’ll soon be out enjoying it after I’ve finished this masterpiece of modern ranting and my coffee. The rest of the house is still in bed, missing it all. There’s rain forecast later. C’est la vie.