Then I got throwed off this track by my son. Coming up on two years ago, he said to me "Go get a life, mom. I'm going to be going off soon." He said this at fourteen. Because he is really forty-six and a half.
The upshot was then again being throwed off by meeting the love of my life, who inspires me and inspired me to write this poem for him this morning:
If I could predict and then have as I say,
I would, of course, always have my way.
But life presents quite differently,
and the best of times come untethered and free.
While this fact of things can daunt and tease,
this fact of things is how life will please
and bring to fore loves finest and best
to fully enjoy till night's sweet rest.
Now that a new, improved, much happier path is laid here in front of me, I find myself still throwed off. Daily. By daily demands. Unexpected bills. Shoulder impingement. House fixings. More unexpected bills. More to do. More to do. More to do. The "To Dos" throw me off.
I'm not sure if it's a product of getting older, this fracturing of attention. It surely is influenced by this. But now, after a flurry of disconcertment, I tend to settle down a bit faster because I know that being throwed off can and should be turned into a plus plus plus! and a nap.
Thus and therefore, I shall not fear horses, buses, islands, tracks or scents. I shall endeavor to forthrightly, heretofore and henceforth, redundantly seek to find the soft spot to land in any enclosure or experience where being thrown off is a distinct possibility. Which is, in point of real time fact, everywhere.
Because being throwed off is a gift, if you look at it correctly.
What the living hell is this coming my way?