I left the doctor’s office completely numb. Once at the sidewalk, I took in a deep dose of Boston’s burnt, tinny air. The glass skyscrapers stretched up all around me. I had to blame someone, so I blamed the city.
Back at my office, I sat staring at my computer screen. All those years, working my way up to the top: none of that would help me now. My investment and retirement accounts were all useless. Retirement. Now that was a funny word.
I should quit my job and travel the world. That’s what people do, right? Some sort of bucket list thing – was that what I was supposed to put together? But I didn’t want a list of things. I wanted only one thing, and I’d wanted it all my life: to live in the wilderness. Life had gotten in the way of that dream. Pursuit of the almighty dollar and living comfortably had negated it. Maybe there was still time to find peace in the forest.
My entire body drooped with the realization that my whole life had probably been wasted. No wife, no children, no heirs, no legacy: what had I actually accomplished? Continue reading “Blue-Eyed Death”