The Truth About Truth

I often think about what is the truth of my life. By "truth", I mean to really look at what has happened to me over the years. Statements that people have made to me and what I have thought and felt at one time or another. Desires and dreams never realized. Magic made in spite of difficult circumstances. Sometimes my truth overwhelms me and I find it in places where it does not belong. It makes itself known to me at the most inopportune times like an uninvited guest. Once they are there it is difficult to get them to leave.

During the course of my day I rarely have time to dwell on the past. I like to believe my life is different now. For the most part I have joined the ranks of the upper middle class. I have a profession and two degrees. A house and two cars. But my truth of what I lived before is but a flashback away. They come and they go. They come and often they stay. A blinding reminder that although I have crossed over from one road to another, if I look back I can still see that path littered with the trash of bygone days. Truth does not change. It is what it is and always will be. It may be twisted, revised, but then it become something else. It is not truth.

I like to believe that I have moved on. I know that you have moved on too. All that we know is different, changed from what used to be. We are all grown up now, with children of our own that we treat like children. We tuck them in and paste crude crayon drawings on the refrigerator.

In them we see a life vibrant with possibility.

The past cannot be changed, altered. And that is the truth about truth.