My Achilles Heel is that I never knew what I wanted to do for a living until I was almost thirty. I came to writing late. So when I am in the presence of two people like yesterday's bride and groom I feel deficient. These were individuals who knew what they wanted to do even before they began high school, let alone college. . . .
It's been a week. Let's start backward. I was thinking this morning about the Resurrection, in particular about that first breath. The first breath. Whether you believe it happened or not, the world has not been the same since. I'm a little off my axis these days, overwhelmed with this and that, trying to keep all the balls in the air.
I'm sitting in my office on a Sunday afternoon. Rode the Peloton, went to church, Ricardo's in San Juan for crunchy tacos and refried beans, a little time re-reading The Winds of War, and now here I sit.
Unlike my friend Dan, I am perpetually underdressed. I try. Sort of. But it seems I'm always a jacket and pair of dress shoes short. As my wife told me last night after we attended a party here in New York, I tend to look like I just left track practice. Dan, on the other hand, is always pressed and shined, no matter the occasion.
