The TK Worst Reasons to Write This Post

I believe in my ability to write nothing worth reading.

I am watching my son finish breakfast and thinking about how unhappy I am. Sometimes. And I’m thinking about how I don’t always know why I’m unhappy. It’s not my kids. Watching my son eat in the morning, he’s still a little boy, but he’s also 6’1” and nearly 15. I like that, the safe moment in which he’s neither here nor there. It’s sometimes my job that makes me unhappy. But not always. I get something out of it, more than I realized. I’m not too unhappy with my age. 50 isn’t that terrible. Not so far. My wife? We have moments like any other couple, but I’m not unhappy. The sky brightening outside? The morning birds? The way the day always moves along whether I want to or not? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the same unhappy everyone else feels at time never standing still.