The Year of Adam

New York, NY

Some prophecies are wrong. I'm alive. I made it. Fate is my bitch. No impalement on the hood of a cab. No crashing to oblivion over the Atlantic. I waited for death to find me, and I out ran it. My time line has extended indefinitely. And now I have to deal with getting old.

The wrinkle showed up two weeks ago. It's not "a" wrinkle but "the" wrinkle. Singular. Defiant. A small streak on my left cheek, reminding me that, although I still get to ride the ferris wheel, the ride will eventually come to an end. And I laugh. The fortune I spent on various eye creams would have been better spent half an inch south on my face. The wrinkle itself has thrown my face into a Picasso-like asymmetry. And, though it is a reminder of getting older, I realize that it wasn't caused by stress, or pain, but smiling and laughter. And because of this, I know that a few more wrinkles might not be so bad.

About a year ago, I decided to embark on the "Year of Adam". 12 months (or however many I had left) of checking some items off my list. Living, loving, and learning. I never expected to check all the items off, and I didn't. I didn't come close. But I managed to get to a handful of them, which was truly the goal. Live like it's the last dance. Make each breath sweet. Drive to the other side of the mountain just to check out the view.

At the start of it, I created a trailer. Something inspiring. Motivational. Jubilant. Self-serving. Narcissistic. A celebration of life. And at the close of it, I decided to create another. A sequel. This is what I came up with...