The Carrying On of A Wayward Son

In college, we all go through fazes. For many people, going away to university is the first time spent apart from their family. This newfound freedom is the perfect atmosphere for trying something new and adopting a fresh persona — whether it be social, sexual or theological.

The book that single handily made me question the very worth of my life.

Always a bit of a glutton, I went through several fazes — including a brief stint of time where I dwelt endlessly on my own mortality.

During the months between my sophomore and junior year, I spent my first summer at Texas A&M instead of going home to live with my parents. Because my sister had an internship in Houston and I lived in an apartment with three other guys who had cars, my sister kept the car we shared that summer.

While I could often depend on my roommates for rides to and from campus, there were many days where I would have to walk home from school. Worse, because I did not need my keys to drive to school, I would often forget them when I left the apartment in the morning.

One afternoon I finished up early at school and decided to walk home instead of waiting for the bus. The good news was that my apartment was not too far away from campus. The bad news: I live in Texas where summer afternoons can leave a man drenched in sweat in under 10 minutes. By the time I got to my apartment, I was soaked and ready for a nice cool shower and an afternoon nap.

Walking up to my porch, I shoved my hands into my pockets to fish out my keys. I pulled back empty handed. Not only had I forgotten my keys, I had also forgotten my cell phone. I was stuck outside and there was no way for me to call for help.

I spent the first hour sitting in the shade and attempting to cool off. Parched from the walk, I even resorted to drinking from the waterspout — something my parents had always told me would give me worms.

The second hour was when I started to get bored. 

I have a lot of experience in dealing with being locked out. When I was in grade school, I had a bad habit of forgetting my keys.

It was after my mom came home to find me peeing on the side of the house that she began hiding keys in the front patio.

Even with my past experience, I struggled with ways to keep sane as I paced back and forth in front of the apartment and tried to will the front door open. Unable to develop telekinesis, I resigned myself to find other ways to be kept amused.

I searched in my backpack for something to do — anything that would take my mind off of my situation. While I suppose I could have cracked open a book and started studying for one of my summer courses, I quite frankly wasn’t in the mood.

Instead, I took out a book that had been sent to the newspaper to be reviewed. The book was called “2Do Before I Die” and was, as you might suspect, a helpful guide in making a list of things to do before you shuffled off the mortal coil

As I flipped through the book and read some of the suggestions for experiences nobody should pass up while they still had the breath in them, I realized that my life had, so far, been relatively uneventful.

Sure I had been places and seen things, but had I ever swam with dolphins? Had I ever pet a dolphin for that matter? What if was to die today, trapped outside my apartment and left to the elements? Would I see my life flash before my eyes and merely yawn?

To be continued…