A Grand Adventure

It’s early Tuesday morning, and I’m staring out the window at a clear, blue sky with the occasional wisp of a cloud. If I could reach through the glass, I could touch one of them. The Greatest Kid On The Planet and I are thirty-four thousand feet in the air, traveling at five hundred and forty miles an hour across the rocky mountain landscape below us.

Five days ago, we were doing this very same thing, but we were heading in the opposite direction toward the land of cable cars, Ghirardelli, and the Golden Gate Bridge. This morning, we’re heading back to Georgia after one of our grandest adventures. But we say that about all of them.

The Greatest Kid On The Planet is asleep next to me, and I wish I could do that. I never sleep thirty thousand feet in the air. I’ve done this particular trip many times before, both with and without The Greatest Kid, but never just the two of us, and, for me, that’s what makes this one so grand.

This particular adventure is one I took many years ago with a man The Greatest Kid knew for only a few short years. It’s a story I’ve relayed often of life with his dad before he was born, and that I’m taking it now with this younger and, surely, better version of both of us makes me feel as if a circle is closing.

Two nights ago, we were sitting under the stars and bright lights on a clear, California night cheering on our team, a random spot of green lost in a raucous sea of red. It was a night filled with anticipation, amazement, and excitement, and it ended in a crushing loss. It was a loss The Greatest Kid likened to a bug under the heel of a boot, and I couldn’t have agreed more. But it was not the first for our team, and, surely, it won’t be the last.

Still, it was a loss that hurt, and I asked The Greatest Kid in the car after the game what he thought about it all. I’m always amazed when his thoughts echo my own, and this time was no different.

“It was a tough loss,” he said, “but this is still the best time ever. And I would do it all over again.” I let his words settle around us as we passed under the city lights on our way back to the wharf. There was little for me to say. I couldn’t have agreed more.

The Buddha says we are all energy, a stream of consciousness, not a body with a soul, but a soul within a body. And that we will continue on, and we will live our adventures over and over again, one life after another, a continuous cycle without end.

It is also believed that we bring pieces of ourselves with us from one life to the next. That we are, in fact, forever evolving, and everything we were and knew and lived before makes us who we are now and who we will be.

Part of me believes this to be true. We’ve all experienced that sense of déjà vu, that feeling that comes and goes so quickly we can barely grasp it, the certainty that we’ve been here, that we’ve done this, felt this, lived this moment before.

And part of me wants to believe this day and this moment are brand new, that the days ahead of us are unknown and unwritten, and this adventure is still yet to be lived and determined.

Because, what if it isn’t?

What if what the Buddha says is true, and we have, in fact, been here before? Then, surely, it begs the question, and I have to wonder: what did my previous adventure look like?

Am I reliving the same one? Or did I take a different path from the one I’m on now? Did I do all the same things, love all the same people, have all the same hopes and dreams? Did I have all the same doubts and all the same fears? Did I make all the same mistakes? And did I ever learn my lesson?

Did I talk to the moon and stare at the stars?

And did I have all the same questions?

Did I feel the same amazing, unquestionable, unconditional, irrefutable, unexplainable and inexplicable love, joy, awe, wonder, pride, and amazement I feel today?

These are the thoughts I ponder at thirty thousand feet as we race through the air skipping over hours into the day. The years behind me are a kaleidoscope of colors and thoughts and feelings, and fragments of days and hours and moments, and words said and unsaid and things done and undone, and all the pieces come together as the wheel keeps turning. They create a picture in my mind of where I’ve been and how I wound up here in this time and place, and I wonder, if I could move those pieces around, if I could, in fact, do it all over again, as The Greatest Kid said, would I?

Years ago, I could not have imagined myself where I am now. I was busy and selfish and thoughts of family never entered my mind. The person I was then had no idea what she was missing or that life would change her in ways she could not imagine. And that it would be heartbreaking and overwhelming and painful and amazing. But now, here, today, a lifetime, seemingly, from who and where I once was, I cannot imagine myself anywhere else.

So, if I could do it again, would I? Would I make the same choices? Or would I choose to rearrange the pieces and do things differently? Would I choose to relive the hurt and the healing, the hardship and the loss, to get to where I am today?

Some say it’s all wishful thinking, that this is our one life, and there isn’t anything after this. That, after we have lived all the days we are given, there is eternal peace and rest for the weary but nothing more beyond.

Perhaps this is true. And if it is, and we do not, as the Buddha says, live our adventures over and over again, then, surely, it, too, begs the question, and I have to wonder: what are we doing with the mere moments we have, with our one chance to do and be who and where we are?

Are we being true to ourselves and to others? Or do we take it all for granted? Are we living our best life and helping the ones we love do the same? Or do we choose comfort over courage? Are we following our dreams? Are we as happy as we can be, living the life we want to live, loving whom we want to love, and doing what we want to do? Are we making the right choices and asking the right questions? Do we choose to trust and to love, to forgive and show grace, to be kind and feel gratitude, and to be brave and believe?

Do we look around each day and feel unquestionable, unconditional, unexplainable and inexplicable love, excitement, joy, wonder, pride, and amazement at all that we are and all that we see?

These are the things I ponder as we fly through the air at thirty thousand feet. There are a few bumps in the road on our way back to Georgia, but, mostly, the sky is peaceful. The Greatest Kid is still asleep, and I’m sure I can see him growing before me. These days his height rivals my own, and I have less than an inch on him which I will surely give away before twelve-years-old is over. I make sure he sees only the smile in my eyes, but, in my heart, there is an ache mixed in with the wonder. The things I see in him and all he is becoming are a combination of a man I once knew, who I am now, and the person I hope he will be.

It occurs to me now that, even as I sit here in the middle of my adventure, I am watching The Greatest Kid live out his own. His started barely thirteen years ago, and so much of it still lies ahead of him. And I wonder what the rest of it will look like.

And if, one day, years from now, somewhere in a time and place and a universe I cannot imagine, he will do it all over again.

Right now, we are getting close to home. Winter is settling into Georgia and bringing with it a chill that comes and goes. But that’s the way we like it in the South. In the coming days, we will spend our moments with family and friends, and the air and the days will be filled with excitement, and our kitchen will smell of sweet potatoes and cinnamon and warm pumpkin pie. And then, almost as if overnight, the cozy scent of evergreen will mingle with the sounds of Andy Williams and Mitch Miller and John Denver and the Muppets.

These are the adventures waiting for us at home, the ones that I can see.

Maybe, as the Buddha says, we will do it over again and again. Maybe it never ends. Or maybe this is our one grand adventure. The only one that we get.

There is no way to know. I do not know what adventures are waiting for us farther down the road in the coming months and years and seasons and, maybe, in a time and a place I cannot conceive.

But what I do know is this.

I know that every piece of every moment I have lived up until this day, every time I have laughed and every time I have cried, every day I have hoped, prayed, wanted, worried, every wish that I wished that somehow came true and all the wishes I wished that didn’t, every triumph and tragedy, every mistake I have made, every person I have loved and everyone I have lost, every joy and every dream and every fear and every blessing, every day and moment and season of uncertainty, pain, and heartache, every little piece has come together and led me to where I am now.

And whether this is our one and only, or our one of many, this adventure right here, right now, hurtling through time and space next to the greatest kid on the planet, this day, this moment, this life is the one I would choose to live again and again, because this grand adventure, this one, is the greatest one ever.

M.C. Greene

P.S. I wrote this post three weeks ago on our way home from San Francisco after a weekend spent skipping around the wharf and watching the 49ers lay havoc all over the Green Bay Packers. I tucked it away when we returned and celebrated Thanksgiving with The Greatest Kid and family and friends and all the amazing things we are forever thankful for. Last week, The Greatest Kid On The Planet and I were staring out the window at the last full moon of the year while the scent of evergreen danced in the air along with the sounds of Andy Williams. We were mulling over all this past year has bestowed upon us, and The Greatest Kid looked at me and said, “This was the greatest year ever,” and I couldn’t have agreed more.

We love this magical season, and we’re looking forward to all that is ahead of us in the coming weeks and in the start of a new year. For me, 2019 meant love and family and friends and connecting with so many amazing people. I am forever grateful for everyone who has shared with me, and I’m looking forward to picking up where we left off.

But I am never one to wish the time away. Right now, The Greatest Kid and I are enjoying this adventure and the excitement that is in the air, and I hope everyone else is, too. Wherever this magical time takes us, my hope for everyone is that this season brings everything that is wished for and an abundance of love and hope and blessings, and that these days and these moments will be the best ever.