Three Score Years
I know, I could have just entitled this 60 Years; however, three score has a bit less impact on the psyche.
It is unusually cold and, well, winterly outside replete with a couple inches of snow atop an inch of ice. That's very winterly in Atlanta. The grocery stores have sold out of bread and milk and beer (maybe not beer) and school closings are announced before such weather actually arrives. So, most everyone stays inside and watches continuous news coverage about the weather, snow scenes around the city, comments by a few of the stupidest residents, and of course, replayed similar scenes from previous years intended to by comparison exacerbate (if not exaggerate) the current worst storm. While trolling along on Facebook this evening, I was affected by the post of a young acquaintance who wrote, "Dinner in bed. No work tomorrow. Beautiful guy beside me and movies.... Goodnight America." After a necessary pause, I exhaled a sigh of delight as similar memories scurried around in my head, accompanied by the usual melancholy giggles.
Out of a five year spousal type relationship, there will be a few spikes on the happiness scale that will last for the balance of your life. The spontaneous moments of time when you and that one other person want to be together more than any other want ever wished, and it never matters what you do because you have turned two momentarily matching spirits into the joy, the joie de vivre that is the reason for life. A movie you want to watch for the fourth time even though you've rarely paid attention to its detail, but you both know certain lines by rote and always laugh and kiss after successful voice overs. A day spent traveling three hours in a car to have a two hour picnic before the three hour return drive, but the same trees pique the interest of both of you and you reach for a sure hand to squeeze just a bit, perhaps just to seal the moment. The spikes of such closeness and intense sharing are quite rare in any relationship, regardless of longevity. Some may enjoy such memories together, but the joy each feels and accepts at that moment remain part of each soul, each psyche, each life. That's the good stuff. That's living life, but only if you let yourself "go" and just have fun. Abandoning any distractions or logic - just be.
A gay, white man being sixty years old in 2015 is almost an anomaly. And for those of us still here, there are too many friends who died because of AIDS to leave the large circles of friends we enjoyed in our younger lives. Almost all of the shared moments of peace with long-time friends are mine alone. But that's the good stuff. I lived a lot of lives in my lifetime and soaked in every ray of joy and bliss and love that was available. Now that I am of the age when friends start dying because they've lived a full, long, life, I'm just a bit frightened. Not of the dying or even the just-being-fucking-old, but that I let even one of those most special gifts from the gods slip by without being touched again, without requiring the sighed exhale, replete with the melancholy giggle or laughter or spine shiver, or lump in the throat. Live, young people, but to paint the art that will be your sustenance in years to come, savor, bask, accept, participate, love and strive for those moments of honesty between your soul and another. Incomparable with any other emotion or memory, trust me.
