Laid Bare

There was a knock at the door. I, finding myself busy at editing my latest mediocre xanga post, didn't want to answer the door, but I did.

"Who is it?"

"It's me: Your Past. Can I come in?"

"No. Not tonight. I'm busy. Tell you what: let me call you next week. OK?" I had no plans to open the door, now knowing who was there.

Without a response, Past left. My put-off was a transparent and open rejection of his dropping in unannounced. Since it still succeeded in getting rid of my unpleasant "guest", I was pleased . 

---

I tell my friends today that I don't really have "glory days" to relive, as my life has gradually gotten better. Looking back isn't always a pleasant prospect.

We all have unpleasant memories of earlier years. I certainly do. My parents had a rocky relationship as I was growing up, separated repeatedly, each departure holding the threat of divorce. I don't know all the dark secrets, but part of my coming-of-age was realizing that my mother was adulterous. Over the years, I came to realize that there was more than one such indiscretion. Goodbye, childhood. So long, innocence.  Welcome to the world of grown-ups, where the reckless actions of people can hurt others more keenly than blade or bullet.

To understand my mother, I had to understand her past. The sorrows she endured in her formative years made mine seem pale. The stories of her trials ultimately reached me through my wife, my mother finding it easier to confide these dark secrets to her rather than to me or my brother. I can forgive that. The past doesn’t excuse the future, though. It may explain it, but we all make choices. At any moment, one decision can change the direction of our lives, either leading us toward sunnier climes or down darker paths, lined with more regret, sorrow and despair. She made her choices and, for the rest of her life,  struggled along in a darkness that she herself had created.

Bitterness was always right there, waiting to sink its teeth into my neck. There were struggles he and I had, and I’m ashamed to admit that he got the best of me from time to time. Ultimately, I emerged the victor. I chose to break the cycle. I turned toward those sunnier climes to soak up some rays. Break out the shades!

---

 Sometimes, when Past drops in unannounced and I’m not creative enough or quick enough to keep him at bay, he barges in and quickly monopolizes the conversation, preferring the most unpleasant topics. Why is it that this fellow doesn’t have a happy tale to tell?

 “Let’s talk about your failures, shall we?”

 “Let’s not. How about those Cowboys?” I feign interest in shallow sports talk, something that those who know me immediately recognize as a ploy.

 He persists in his tale-telling, bringing up moral failures, embarrassing moments, and any other event that showcases my human frailties in HD. He continues to talk, unfazed at how we are trying to ignore him.

 We? Oh, yes. Sorry. There is another friend in the room. I usually prefer his company, but we don’t spend as much time together as I would like. I’m often wrapped up in my own plans and find myself too busy to hang with him.

 “You don’t have to listen to him,” my friend says of Past, my not-friend. I agree.

 Interrupting Past, who hasn’t shut up since he came in, I get a surprised glance.

 “Past: you have to leave.” He starts up again, hitting the speed bump without slowing.

 “Now!” I show him to the door. When he’s on the other side, I close the door and throw the bolt.

Things are quiet. My friend and I can talk now. He is a soft-spoken fellow, never one to shout above a loudmouth like Past. I’m always glad to have these conversations. Just being around him makes me realize how much better life is now. All those things Past talked about tonight? They are far away—as far as the east is from the west. They only bother me when he brings them up.

We talk. About good times. About the future.