Just sitting here at 4 AM, looking at my pool table and wondering what happened in my life. I could have been a doctor like my father and my brother. I could have been many things, so why did I chose this path to follow. Maybe I was just too lazy to go to school all those years. I didn't really like being cooped up in a classroom. I enjoyed the open road and new adventures.
So here I am fifty years later, reflecting on what and who I am. I sit here in my easy chair; a pool table, my cue and the cue ball my only company. In the distance my little Bose radio chimes out soft classics. I like to dance around the table when I'm alone. I'm at peace, what more can one ask. Thanks for joining me on this journey.
It is easy to have regrets and entertain the what if's but the truth is, we go through life who we are at that time. We change a number of times throughout our lives. The changes may be due to outside forces like a marriage or birth of a child. Our values change our priorities change we are in essence a different person, the seven ages of man as Shakespeare says
The Seven Ages of Man
William Shakespeare
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.
Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.
The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.