The suggested topic for this piece read “Who will Kershaw be in 2020?”, which got me thinking: Who will any of us be? While we can never know where time will take us, we can choose our mode of transportation, and control how we get there.
Until recently, I would not have been what friends considered a spiritual person, but in my ongoing quest to process my grief over losing a loved one this past summer, I recently went to a medium to have my tea leaves read.
Among other revelations that fall outside the scope of this piece, I learned that our birthday is the beginning of a new year, and as my year came to an end last week on my 48th birthday, more than ever, I feel uncertain as to what the next one will be. This may just be a result of unsettled feelings over being two years away from 50, or I could just be having a mid-life crisis eight years later than most, but as A. Bartlett Giamatti puts it so eloquently in The Green Fields of The Mind, “There comes a time when every summer will have something of autumn about it”, and the realization of that can turn even the most settled of us into wanderers.
Which leaves me to ponder, as I think about what the next decade may…