Living in Your Own Skin

As luck might have it, I was listening to Bruce on Sunday morning. You see, I was up early and since no one else gets up with me, except for Melky and Paris, I needed to entertain myself with something after taking them for their ride.

We saw a squirrel. Damn, we were fired up.

So, I headed to the YMCA. A bunch of fat guys trying to slim down and chase away what will most likely be a lot of suffering as we pay for the sins of our youth.

And I had the headphones on, as I attempted to run for the first time since the second knee surgery.

I made it a half a lap.

I must have looked like a wounded seal.

A big one.

And Bruce happened to come on, singing of Better Days.

My soul checked out missing as I sat listening to the hours and minutes ticking away.

As per usual, my mind is often very contemplative on the weekends as I try and assess everything.

It felt good to be moving. It felt better to know that we would all be together today for dinner, movies, the NBA Game that Sam wants to watch. It felt even better to know that I'd gone to church and that my Springsteen tickets were on their way, and so is baseball season.

Bruce sang on.

It's a sad man, my friend, who's living in his own skin and can't stand the company.

That's what it's all about, right? Getting comfortable with your own place in life so you can share some of that love with others. I pray that others find that place, at least a couple of times through the day.

I suspect that many don't. Life is too busy. Love is often misdirected.

Remember folks, the joy of love isn't in the result of loving. It's in the very act of feeling love.

I better write something new.

Feeling comfortable in my own skin, today.

It's a feeling you have to hold onto when it comes.