The things we take for granted in life are the most fragile

Please, don’t sweat the small stuff.

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Traffic. Weather. Getting the kids to school on time. Did that guy signal before he drove into my lane? Groceries. Bills. Getting good seats at the theater. A good parking spot at the mall. Making sure the restaurant got your order right. Does the place we are going to have beer? What’s google say? Fuck all that bullshit.

If Siri told you something bad was going to happen to something you take for granted today, what the fuck would you do about it? Would you finish that tweet or text first?

I’m going to get on a soapbox here, and I don’t care what you say about it. A good friend of mine-Paul Walker-had a post about a tragedy that stirred something inside of me, and now I must write. That’s what writers do. You quiet the noise in your head by typing it out. So here I go..

The things we take for granted in life are in fact the most fragile things on this earth. 

Is my son healthy? Are my parents going to see him get married? Does my wife worry too much that it may take her eyes and mind off the road? Will stress ever leave us alone? How is my brother doing? What am I doing with my life and does it benefit me as well as others? Is my car going to break down tomorrow? These are important things that go unnoticed most of the time. Right now, they are all I can think about.

For example, when I was stuck in Arkansas for two years, all I could think about was the health of my parents. With no disrespect to other relatives, they are the ones I see the most and need the most right now. Luckily, I moved back home and they were okay.

Here’s another example: every day I drop my kid off at school, I wonder if someone is going to walk into the school with a gun and tear my world apart. Call me fucking weird and crazy, but I can’t control what the world has turned me into during the past 20 years. People walk into schools to make a statement and instead destroy lives. It happens, so here I am.

Every day, parents drop their kids off, leave the room, and just walk out. They assume the kid will there at three o’clock; I don’t. Every time I drop my son off, I pause outside the door, and look at him one last time. Vinny gets a book off the shelf, shows it to another kid like it’s the hottest shit on the planet, and sits down. His collar is up in some areas, glasses are crooked, but damn it he’s happy. I hope I pick him up like that.

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Every time I get into a fight with my wife about something on the phone, I wonder if something is going to happen and I won’t get to say sorry again. Stress is a bastard that won’t leave any of us alone, and it likes to dial up the pressure at the worst time. You ever talk to your spouse while they drive, and think about saying the following: “honey, I love you, but in order to be safe, I am going to hang up now.” I do.

I love my brother, but I don’t know how to connect to him without making him extra paranoid. He has a condition that strangles the opportunity for us to be close friends. I don’t need to tell you what it is. Ask Siri. We see each other here and there, but it’s not enough. I don’t call him enough, and I don’t go over there enough. I just don’t want to upset him, which would in turn have a domino effect. It sucks, but life doesn’t care about your feelings. The author of life is a disgruntled soul with more matches than paper.

People take their car for granted every single day. They get into the fucking thing in cold weather without heating it up properly. If your car has more than 35,000 miles, heat it the fuck up. Trust me, and no it’s not in the damn manual. They whip it around turns, and drive over pot holes and huge bumps like the shocks on the car are made of the same metal that is in Wolverine. Think again, assholes. Be easy on your car. Treat it like your treat your flat screen television. It will last a while if you treat it right. Yes, the relationship with your car is like the one with your man or woman. Treat it with some respect, and good things happen. Drive close to the speed limit, take turns smoothly, and please fucking settle down.

It’s simple, folks. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Take care of the real deal. Call your parents. Maybe you hate your parents; in that case call a close friend. Be nice to your car. Think about your kids, and don’t end a phone call with your husband or wife on a sour note. Life has zero fucks left to give about your happy ending. We must preserve that finale ourselves.

Just remember this forever: the things we take for granted are the most fragile things on earth.

Thanks for reading.

-DLB

 

Author: D. Buffa

A regular guy who feels a journalistic hunger to tell the news. I blog because its wired into my brain to write what I think in print. I offer an opinion. A solo tour here. Take regular stories and offer my spin on them. Sports, film, television, music, fatherhood, culture, food, and so on. Commentary on everything. A St. Louis native and Little Rock resident who wants to write just to keep the hands fresh and ready.

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