Life, it's but a twinkle of an eye.
Amidst heartaches, laughter, joy and pain, the bright rays of sunshine hidden beneath those inevitable dark and cloudy days, we must learn to live our lives to the fullest extent of our mortal existence. So, when life is over, there can be few, if any, regrets.
Whenever I emphasize this, how You Only Live Once, to my sixteen year old sons, Twin A and Twin B. I'm quick to inform them that I am never asking them to go out and do some crazy ish that will make them wish they were dead. Of course not. Such thought-provoking sentiments are spoken in hopes that they completely realize the significance of that small beating sound within their chest.
For once the heartbeat stops, it's over. There is no coming back. At least I have yet to meet a single person who has returned from the grave. And rumors of Tupac still being alive, hardly count.
That said, every now and then I recall my own personal age of innocence, and I find myself wishing I could perhaps enter a time machine and return to that precise moment when life was just a little more complete, a little more fulfilling. The point before emotional scars ripped into one's flesh. I often reminisce upon an instant where, in my heart, everything was young and gold. An age where I didn't realize the world was ... so f*cking cold.
For me, that was my teens. Highschool, having a hard time focusing in class, thinking I was grown with every answer in the world, thinking that nothing even mattered in the world. Back then, I was convinced that my future held everything I said it did.
Hopelessly in love, working at Little Ceasar's Pizza, meeting a new face everyday. A zest for life and Hollywood dreams. I recollect upon the passion of sleeping in Saturday morning and talking on the phone late each night. This was long before we as youth understood the ways of the world, ineligibilty rules killed college dreams, politics had nothing do with school, and We are the World was about Africa, a land far away. Before we came to the realization that guns actually kill, the senseless murders of society, before 9/11 and Katrina and when you could walk your loved one to the airport gate and kiss them goodbye, knowing anyone sentenced to life behind bars or the thought that we may be alive when their actually was a black President.
Before life's struggles, losing pieces of one's heart, betrayal,credit destruction, long cries to hurtful music, and asking God why...
I remember when the skating rink was the bomb event, house parties, the everlasting memories of Hawaii and long late rides to Oakland, the first time I saw a black college stepshow, the first time I smoked a joint(hated it), got drunk(threw up all night),had a guy bring flowers on Easter, my first pair of Guess Jeans, and mix tapes made from the radio ... you name it. In my heart, those were the days.
Hip Hop was young. Jay-Z was whack and Michael Jordan was youthful and had just begun to win championship after championship. In essence, Michael Jackson encouraged us all to remember the time, and TV channels BET and MTV played nothing but music videos. For all Grown Folks, do you remember when, each and everyday, we lived, loved, hardly worried and never lost any sleep whatsoever?
Who would've imagined change would come around, so soon.
So, as I preach to the twins, I remain hopeful that they will hold on, and perhaps embrace this current period in their life of relative innocence, thoughts anew, no children, zero regrets or baggage, and no recollections of having witnessed some ish in life that they wish they'd never seen or never had to live through. Relax and enjoy the ride boys. It goes much to fast.