December 14, 2017 Six Years Passes So Damn Quickly

 

Life flies by so very quickly.  Our grip on the now, and on life itself, is tenuous even in the best of times. In the silent spaces of reflection that occur when one grows older blurred images of moments lived well, lived poorly, and spentmundanely flash in our minds. Like scenes out the window of a fast-moving car or a faster moving train, they appear and vanish in a moment. It is only when we sleep that we get a longer look at the past we wish we had grabbed more heartily. The past we wish we had held much closer to our bosoms. My advice to the young is to let your arms extend as far out as possible as you embrace life.

It was quite late last night that I turned my face away from the center of the bed. Facing the wall, I worked through my various prompts for bringing sleep.  Quickly I spiraled into the dark abyss of a restless mind held deep within a sleeping body. Recently dreams have been flooding my sleep in the early hours of the morning. These phantom world images and constructions are all over the place. My dreams have included scenarios ranging from me getting busted for selling opium to finding myself stuck in a mountain village with no coin and no knowledge of the language or culture but having arrived there at the end of a Disney roller coaster ride.

Last night’s dream was particularly vivid.  One minute I was talking to a dear friend sitting on a beat-up old blue green couch on the front lawn of the house I lived in over 50 years ago in East Lansing, Michigan. Next I was looking at the same scene only I held an old photograph that captured the moment instead of being there in person. Finally, I was looking at the side of the seven-story building that covers the spot where that old barn-shaped house used to be. A bar, apartments, and far too many years have obliterated all traces of the place and space. A profound sadness took hold, so many grains of sand have passed through my fingers.

Waking up I knew there was no way I was getting back to sleep. Reaching over I grabbed my watch and saw it was 6:25 AM. I tried not to stir for a few minutes hoping I was wrong and sleep would return. It didn’t and I got up as quietly as possible to avoid waking the other occupant of the bed. In the kitchen I grabbed oatmeal and some coffee. Sitting down at the dining room table, I opened up my phone and checked the news, my email and then moved on to Facebook. There it was in the suggested memory, two young men trying to get some extra sleep in the back of a car rolling down a lonely stretch of road between Sarnia and London, Ontario. I smiled and the sadness stirred by the dream faded like mist burned off by the day’s bright light.

On December 14, 2017 East Lansing suffered bad weather. Despite it being a sunny day patches of ice were all over the roads and highways from storms the night before. However, the day was clear. Having lived in the north country long enough we knew that the longer the sun was out the less dangerous the US Interstates and the Ontario freeways would be. Still, we had to add a couple of extra hours to the travel time to Lester B. Pearson airport in Toronto. 

All packed the night before, the car loaded with our suitcases, all we had to do in the morning was get up and head out. Leaving slightly earlier was an inconvenience and nothing more. But for those young men, sleeping was a priority. Itwould be a full day before they would sleep again. Me: I had just downloaded a photo app on my phone and I was damned sure going to document our first foray to the continent. Hence the sleep shots.

At about 11:30 PM that December 14th, after two de-icings, our Air Canada Rouge flight took off from Toronto destined for Lisbon Portugal. A holiday lark, nothing more. We would hit Lisbon and Porto. Back then I thought we would have seen all the worthwhile things to see in Portugal in that span before heading home via Canada on Christmas Eve. Backthen, I thought this would be just the first of many serial trips to cities all over Europe. Funny, life had other plans for me.

In the last six years since that first flight to Lisbon I have retired and have spent over a year and a half living in Portugal. Ihave gotten a tax ID, I have entered the national medical system and become a resident. I have travelled north and south through the country. I have visited towns in almost all corners of the country. Now I live in a three-bedroom apartment on the 1st floor of a 5-story building. We have a balcony that runs from one side of the apartment to the other. In warmer weather, April through October, I eat my meals on that balcony. 

In the past year I have made friends with people from all over the place from all sorts of backgrounds. There have been habits formed, such as drinking milky coffee in the afternoon or eating a pastry in a padaria. I have toured churches, museums and out of the way towns. I have attended concerts and entertained guests passing through town. Standing on the banks of the Rio Tejo I have watched tall ships parade down the river. Surrounded by thousands I watched a carnival parade.

Between December 14, 2017 and December 14, 2023, a mere six years, my life has changed for the better. Neverexpected to be an emigrant, nor expected to get used to drinking an imperial beer with lunch. I  never imagined I would hang my laundry on a line off the back of my apartment on the regular. But this life I stumbled onto by accident, it is better than good. To steal a line from out of the 1980s I am so much closer to fine.