In a world of my own creating, I would be meeting Keith Richards tonight for a drink.
We would sit at a bar and he could tell me what it means to be a survivor and how, in fact to survive.
And then he would probably laugh and laugh his deep slurry laugh and his face would show all of the carved-out crevices of the 73 years of a life that few have ever seen or lived and maybe, if I was lucky, he'd reach over and touch the back of my hand and say, "It's okay. I've seen worse. Trust me."
And if I had any wits about me at all at that point, I would thank him and say, "I believe you."
And that's all I have to say tonight.
It's a sound plan....I've been waiting for decades for Gracy Slick to show up in a limo outside my door, crook her finger and say "Mike, it's your turn."
ReplyDeleteBest of luck with yours.
Mike
Ah well. You know. I just sometimes need a little Keith perspective. My son says that Keith is my spirit-totem animal. I believe it.
DeleteLacking Keith Richards to send you, sending hugs instead.
ReplyDeleteXoxo
Barbara
Hugs are always good. Thank you, Barbara.
DeleteKeith is there for you. He sure is.
ReplyDeleteWell, at least in my mind. I can just see those sweet old eyes, those gnarled old hands.
Delete