Sometimes it’s as though I run out of things to say. It’s as if the clichés seem boring. It’s as if the humorous insight doesn’t feel the urge to travel through the avenues of care, and end up backing up along the digital highway that connects my brain and my mouth. Sometimes, it’s as if the moment of silence is a far better path to choose.
I’m often asked why I’m so quiet, why I’m so soft spoken. I often don’t know the answer to these questions, and end up shrugging my shoulders with no course of response. I guess I’m wired in a way that leaves me far short than that of the life of the party. I’m not sure if it’s due to the lifeline I have lived, or if it’s just the way I have been wired from day one.
I was at an event this past weekend, and when the introductions went around the room, a hand was placed on my shoulder, telling me that it was my turn to tell everyone who I was, and where I was from.
I sat up in my chair, took a deep breath and said, “I’m Deon Lyons, from the town of Clinton.” I was happy with my orational skills, I mean I was clear, concise, to the point and then, all of a sudden, the hand on my shoulder apologized to the room for my soft, spoken tone and had to reintroduce me to the room in her much more boisterous voice that eventually informed the folks in the room who I actually was.
I was embarrassed, but not for long, because I guess I’m used to it. I can’t do anything about it, and I’m not going to make excuses for it. I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.
God, that sounds like a Popeye cartoon, right?
Anyways, I guess what I’m getting at is that we all have our own characteristics that keep us individually unique from the rest of the world. Not one person on the face of the earth is like us. Some may be similar in looks, or voice, or actions or abilities, but not one of them comes close to being just like us.
I grew up idolizing my older brother and wanted to be just like him. Truth is, I grew up being so far from who he was that it appears I spent a lot of time wishing and hoping for not. I became one thing, and one thing only. I became me, little old me, quiet, shy, gullible, naïve, inquisitive me, dimples and all. I didn’t look like my older brother, I didn’t excel in sports like he did, well, not as well as he did. I didn’t attract all the girls like he did, nor did I really want to. My shyness would get the better of me in more ways than one, and a chick magnet I wasn’t.
I did find the love of my life and together we made the most amazing man on the face of the planet. Was it what it was meant to be, or was it what just happened to stumble in front of me? Either way, I was very fortunate and blessed to find love and build from it.
I am what I am, and although I’m not wrapped tightly some days, my life will never be any more than it is right now. I know it is what I make of it, but what I’m looking at right now is what I have to experience, nothing more, nothing less.
I often think about a lot of things. I often worked out around the yard doing landscaping and gardening and lawn care and whatever fell into my day. I would often step back from the work I had begun, or finished, or pondered upon, and I would imagine how it would look through the eyes of my father. I would contemplate how he would approach the moment, and for that brief moment, I would see him stepping back, folding his arms and smiling. He always threw a warm blanket around the cold shoulders of my day, building confidence in me by telling me how much he admired me, my work, my life, and all of the things that I had placed around me. He would offer suggestions and place forth his personal slice of insight, but not until I got older did I realize just how valuable it was, he was.
Our lives are full of slices of things that we have no idea about. We don’t know how valuable they are, how important they are, how impressive they are, or have been, or could be. We don’t know how good we have it, or how good it will be, or how good it was.
I am what I am because of who I am. So many things factor into who we are and what we are. So many things make up those small little slivers of life, and as we contemplate on what could be, what might be, what should be, let us never forget about what is, for it’s really the only thing you can hang your hat on at the end of the day.
Thanks for stopping by my blog once again, or for the first time, which I hope won’t be the last time, but if it is, thanks for taking part of your day to add to mine.