Disbelief, but it is true. Driving in our car, dazed. We are trying to not slip into denial, but denial is ever so soothing. We busted our butt, now we’re unemployed. The help wanted section in the Sunday paper. “This sucks,” we’re thinking. Yellow highlighter in hand making circles in the ‘help me’ section.
Just driving around now, maybe to just get out for a while. Our life tipped again. Wondering about how things will go with all those jobs in yellow. This little dream of ours creeps into our thoughts – career, a business, school, something else.
We just thought of some errand that we could run since we’re out anyway – you know, not wanting to seem like we’re just driving around. Last week if we were told we had tomorrow off – would have smiled. We have it off now – not smiling. So scared to just think, taking time to just think. That little dream of ours, again.
The ads in the paper, nothing really grabbed us, but our life will be directed by one of them. But we have this dream. “It would be so cool,” – feeling it now poking our thoughts. “But . . . “
“Brace-up,” telling ourselves, “no time to be thinking about my little dream . . . responsibilities.” The money will be tight soon if one of the ads in the paper does not come into reality. Stopping at the light – looking over at the person driving the car next to us . . . as if they have the answers – our answers. They look over. Maybe we’re so freaked that for a flash we wonder if they can tell we’re unemployed, just lost our job. Quickly checking our hair so as not to look frazzled. Making sure, very sure that the outside is not matching the inside of us. Our life is changing right in front of us – all these quick, sharp thoughts – zooming in, colliding, bouncing around, very cluttered but still trying to squeeze a few more into the mix. Then abruptly, “Man, I have to call on these ads, no time, no time to waste” we half say, mostly just thinking as we turn around heading home, “Must get things organized, get on the phone – screw the errand.”
Driving home we remember before, before when we last really entertained that little dream of ours; all four car windows are down, CD max’ed and breaking up the speakers, hair flying, we were flying, our dream – it was out of the cellophane. On the tip of our emotions – right there, inches in front of our face. But, we just can’t quite seem to grab it, hands frozen in time, our time. Our dreams . . . they just became our “Twinkie-Dreams.”
Our dream has now been neatly wrapped in cellophane, the ‘stay-fresh wrapping’ for yet another day. Remembering that old Alka-Selzer commercial with the package floating around on top of the water, hearing the commentator say, “It lasts almost forever.” We just sat our Twinkie-Dream down on the seat next to us – adjust it just right to make sure it’s OK. Maybe we glance at it a final time before pulling up the driveway.
Congratulations, only three weeks to find a job, a new home.
Off to work with our Twinkie-Dream sitting safely in the passenger seat. “I hope this job goes well,” maybe thinking we shouldn’t have wrapped up our dream so fast, given it a shot – “Could have lasted a little longer without income while trying to staple some wings to this thing.”
The interviews went well – the new boss came off as demanding, but fair. “The job looks good, in two weeks a check,” we’re cool with it all. But, “Man, I hope the boss doesn’t end up being a total jerk-off,” we almost say out loud. Not that things aren’t our fault once in a great while – but, easier to project the blame anyway. The American work-force steadily moving to a ‘catch-as-catch-can’ with a stick and move resolve. Temporary gigs with suitcases half packed.
“Where did all this traffic come from?” – shaking our head wondering, “I can’t believe I’m going to be late my first damn day!” – no exceptions, I suppose. Snatchin’ up our briefcase or other carry-along – our hurried jerk motion repositions our Twinkie-Dream to the floor, upside down of course. “I’ll have to pick it up after work,” telling ourselves as we jump quickly into our new Twilight Zone – controlled by the little circles in yellow.
Marching in time with the many as we trade our life for a paycheck and a fancy title on our new business cards – keep a few of the old ones in a drawer someplace just to prove we were there. Other than the old business cards tucked away, a new top entry on our resume and the things we purchased with the paychecks, what else is left – nothing. And the odds are in our favor that we will end up broke at age 65 and tired, actually very tired – wondering, wishing …
Our life’s path was determined by the yellow circles on that particular Sunday. If it had been some other Sunday our life path would have been different.
Our new job, it’s going well, we’re happy – well pretty happy until we see your Twinkie- Dream sitting on the seat next to us. “Damn,” we think briefly.
Oh, look, a new girlfriend now. More and more time and thought goes her way. Maybe something to fill the void, maybe something real. It just depends. Still our Twinkie-Dream is riding around with us in the front seat. The new chick gets in, grabs the package of Twinkies and tosses them in the back seat. Now at times returning home from work we twist our neck around at the light – our Twinkie-Dream sitting askew in the back seat.
The subtitle pops up on our life’s screen, it reads, “Four Years Later.” That job we had, well now on the third one since then. We’re tired from driving so long – with our wife on our way to an Orlando vacation. Our two beautiful children in the back seat have been agitating for months about Mickey Mouse. Its a long drive and our son pushes his sister off the seat. We didn’t even notice, just counting down the mile markers in a daze.
As our daughter is getting up from the floor she spots it – pushed up under the front seat are two Twinkies.
“Dad, thanks for the Twinkies,” from the little ones in the back seat.
“What Twinkies,” asks your wife.
“The ones under the seat,” we respond.
“I don’t know anything about any Twinkies . . . Dear, how long have those things been back there?” – your beautiful wife asks.
Your wife, she had no clue. You never told her. It was your Twinkie-Dream. You were so scared you couldn’t even talk about it. Well, this one time you were drinking and you mentioned something about it. She looked at you funny. “You’re drunk,” she says. You began to talk about something else, but you were thinking about your Twinkie-Dream. It was strong within you that night but you sheltered it away from the outside chatter of questioning. Never brought it up again, did you.
Your wife was afraid the kids were going to get sick from eating old Twinkies. You assured her that since they were wrapped in cellophane they will last virtually forever.
You really did think, you were sure of it – your Twinkie-Dreams, they would last virtually forever. Did you think that?
We are older now. We see and understand things differently these days. We traded our Twinkie-Dream for a job in yellow. All evidence of our dream was seemingly destroyed on our way to Orlando.
Today was determined by yesterday, and yesterday is no longer within our reach. We can hit the rewind key time after time and re-play it all. It’s always the same. The edit keys don’t work for yesterday, only tomorrow. There is no rewrite of our yesterdays allowed.
You have two beautiful children. It does not always have to be mutually exclusive events (one or the other), you know. Do you know that? Or was, and is, that your excuse? If you can tell others and believe the story yourself, OK, I’ll get off your ass. “But,” and only you understand this “but,” – were you just scared? Everyone is you know – scared that is.
It is never too late unless we’re already dead. After the transition there’s no hustling allowed – no more stories to run down. We can’t hustle our way into heaven after we’re dead. It’s what we do in life which dictates our eternity. Who is hustling whom . . . . you?
So the question stands, “Why do we wrap our dreams in cellophane and toss them in the passengers seat next to us as a tag along?”