The Book of My Life

Life is a series of transitions. It is nothing more than an author writing a book. We are all the authors of our own lives. We have a definite say in which way our lives go. We choose. When we don't choose or refuse to choose, we choose still.

Chapters open in our lives and they close. You may have noticed that leaving high school, you had a realization that this was it. This is the end of the road. It is now time for me to enter adult life. We were novices who thought we knew it all.

This was me 17 years ago. The longer I live the more I realize that I am crossing threshold after threshold, ending chapter after chapter and I cannot help but wonder, what is it that I am going to publish about myself.

These words cannot be unwritten, edited for mature audiences, or banned from any reading list. It cannot be undone because it is the truth. The truth is the truth. Sometimes I love the truth and sometimes truth gets ugly and I dare not face it. Yet it stands there waiting for my acknowledgement.

One truth I am realizing now is this, I am concerned. Things are changing at such a rapid rate that I can not fathom the real speed at which I am traveling. As I look back at the pages upon pages, chapters upon chapters of my life written by my choices with the ink of purpose, forming characters of memories whose jots and tittles remind me of the good times and haunt me with the bad, I cannot help but wonder what is in the next chapter?

Will it be the final chapter? Will I attain novel status as did my grandmother? Or will the ancient field-hand claim me with his sharp scythe, whose blade cuts steadily and indiscriminately. What, I wonder, will the Great Critic of mankind say concerning what I have written?