Dreams and Water
The old man had eyes that were yellow where they should be white. They had a slight white glaze about them that reminded me of translucent egg whites. His hair was thin and dyed dark. It was 12am and he sat across the bar from me. "I was a singer too. Too much alcohol and pills... Made me lose my head." he tells me with his eyes bulging out on certain words for impact.
Isn't that just it. Dreams are so hard to hold on to. It seems like just about anything can hop in and make one lose sight. Dreams are not hard for me. Anything else is hard for me. Knowing the truths of life and still not pursuing them is hard. Drugs are hard. Day jobs are hard. I know I've struggled harder for my dreams than any of these but it certainly never felt hard. It always felt like freedom.
He he gets up to leave and he says to me "Keep singing. You picked a hard thing. You're going to have to be lucky. Don't be stupid.... And drink water (laughs)." I lift my water bottle off the bar and raise it to him. I can't imagine the life this man has had. I didn't take his words lightly. His eyes spoke of his regrets. That's a type of wisdom that you can't shrug off... Because that's a type of wisdom you don't want to have one day.
I drink water, I work hard and with any luck, I'll never be able to consider my dreams harder than any other reality.
I'm grateful for your words, old man.