Missing

I stumbled across my 1988 high school graduation photo, and had a good chuckle. Thought I would share it with my faithful reader(s). Not sure what is growing out of one side of my head there...I think we called that a style back then. Check out the pretentious blurb alongside the photo. Ugh! Most folks actually thank and shout-out to people. Not me. I was much more interested in quoting Stephen King and Tennyson. Ah, the arrogance of youth.  I find it fascinating to study that photo, only because I don't recognize the face whatsoever. He is what I used to see in the mirror every morning, as I applied my mousse (no, grasshopper, I really didn't see the signs). He's a handsome little guy though, I'll give him that. But the eyebrows...are they really that big? 

None of us are seers, of course, and as I look into this face it's tempting to want to whisper a few pieces of widsom his way. He really has no idea of the adventures and misadventures he will be facing. He has not really been in love, and so he has not truly given of himself so that he loves another more than himself. He has not yet had his heart broken, so much so that he will lock himself away and mourn his momentous loss. A loss that can only be a first heartbreak, the seemingly epic rupture of the earth itself. He has not yet experienced real ectasy or intimacy. He knows nothing of the power of silence and the magic of speaking without words. He has not travelled more than 500 km from home. He has not yet been tested to his limits, nor seen the worst of himself.    

So tempting...but I won't risk telling him. He deserves all of his "firsts" both good and bad. He's a good kid. He gets caught up in his head a little too much but for the most part he stays true to himself. He's gone now, and I won't ever get him back. But what a journey to this place.