1,000 Miles of Optimism

Life seemed to be more fun when your life was out there somewhere, waiting in the future. It was mysterious and you would get to it eventually. Pieces would fit together like a happy puzzle of meaning and fulfillment. From a thousand miles out the future looked perfect, or adequate at the very least. The perfect job would occupy your days with purpose, and the perfect spouse would occupy your nights with passion. Marriage and happily-ever-after would form the bedrock for a successful foray into family. Your kids would be adorable, exceptional, and respectful. Your home: a castle on a hill. Your car: a shiny, head-turning chariot. It was assumed that close friendships would thrive for decades; and that new friends would blend into the soil of your life like rotating crops, or a fast-moving square-dance, always fun and always fertile for meaningful connections. To a certain extent, we all mortgage a perfect life later against a pocket full of dreams.