print

Birthday Wish

I am about to turn 37 and I know it. I am very aware of it. A week back, in a dream, I woke, stood up, and when I looked down for my slippers, I realized I had my body back from when I was 18. I held my arms out and examined the tanned, olive skin stretched tightly over a lean, 120-pound frame. I looked at my chest and there wasn’t a hair on it compared to the rug I have now. Then I looked down even further to a rippling set of abs that are normally covered in a layer of subcutaneous fat. I gazed at myself in wonder and felt wonderful standing in my old, young body. I moved it - rolling my shoulders, waving my arms, flexing my muscles, jumping up and down - feeling the agility and lightness of my former self and I thought it must have been great to have this body. And it was great. It was a great body and I abused it with as much alcohol and junk food and late nights and cigarettes and stress and emotional roller coaster rides and nightclubs and reckless self-destructive behavior it could take and it held up well. Only hard liquor and Mountain Dew seemed to cause it serious grief, but now I had this body back, good as new before I put it through the ringer, and considering that I don’t drink or smoke or eat like shit or stay up all night long or stress over the silliest things anymore, it felt good. Really good. But when I stepped over to look in the mirror, I found the catch: from the neck up, I had the same cheeky face and male pattern baldness head of the man about to turn 37. From the neck up, I looked like I weighed 160 pounds, as I do, and I looked my age. And with this head juxtaposed on top of my younger self, I looked awkward and sad and worn and even older than I am about to turn.

The image in the mirror disturbed me; I’d been tricked. I hadn’t minded the details. Somewhere along the line, I’d wished I had the energy and opportunities a body of my youth could supply, but with the experience and knowledge of my age to go with it to keep me from wasting it on recklessness as I did before. I got my wish, but the devil is in the details, and I was living with his handy work. What a smart ass. And then I laughed.

END
© 2006 Christian Cloud Abraham

Posted on February 19, 2006 in
Emotion: Wonder, Type: Dream