Yesterday didn’t work out the way the schedule had it drawn up. It all started with another insane text from west of Mannheim and everything west of Mannheim just kept kicking me in the throat.
I was supposed to go to a party, too many cars. I detoured for ice cream instead. Too many people were in line for an ice cream. I drove home.
The five-layer taco dip I made for the party…..
Left it in the back of The Lemon and it had spoiled by the time I realized that it was sitting in the back of Betty’s replacement.
Later that evening, I was going to meet friends at Fitzgerald’s. I couldn’t find parking.
I tried another ice cream spot around the corner, it was packed.
All dressed up and nowhere to go. I drove home again and ended the Fourth watching Full Metal Jacket with Fritz and George.
“Do you want us to rewind it for you, Dad?”
That line stuck with me. Not just because of how kind it was, but because I realized how much I’ve needed rewinding lately.
I’ve become an introvert in recent years. Not in a romantic, “Thoreau in the woods” kind of way. More in a “crawl under the covers when things get loud” sort of way. I used to be the gregarious and grateful guy.
I’m not apologizing for being quieter, but I think I’ve let that quieter version of myself get away with too much retreat and that is where this morning hits differently.
I used to think comebacks were about headlines, big moments and public victories. The kind of stuff that gets applause and maybe a slap on the back from the folks who counted you out.
I’ve come to learn through the years that the most meaningful comebacks happen in silence. They happen in the morning when I lace up my shoes, shut off the excuses, and decide to stop bullshitting.
No cameras. No cheerleaders. No spouse or parent. Just me and that voice in my huge head asking if I'm ready to carry my big ass out the front door and quit being a crybaby.
This comeback?
It’s personal. It won’t be for revenge. Nor for validation.
It is an apology to the man who went to parties and concerts. The one who thrived on connection and not avoidance. The one who made taco dip and actually showed up to share it.
If you see me out walking, or hear me cracking a joke at the grocery store, know that every step is part of the rebuild. Not toward some shiny new version of myself, but toward the version that shows up to more than just going to work. The one who stops turning around when things get crowded.
Here is my therapeutic Morning Chalkboard for the day after Americas birthday. I hope it can reach out to a few Chalkheads going through the same grind.
