A man got on the elevator and turned around. He was all smiles. In his hands he had a package. He looked straight at yours truly and explained, “Pills.” As he spoke he straightened out the slight crumpling of the package. He had evidently just been to the mail box and his pills had come. There was a garbled, mumbling reply that didn’t make sense while it was being said and isn’t recalled at all now. Seemingly it was something about pills being important to many people in the building.
In their early years, many people dream dreams of what they want to do with their lives. They may even lay out the events that need to take place – that, then this, then this, give it five years for that, then about five more…. Sometimes the plans are shattered within about six months. Sometimes they may hold relatively true for the first five years. For one out of thousands they may hold true for a part of the lifetime. Then, one day, the objective is not a new car or new job for the dream, but pills.
The pills may promise more life or maybe just relief from regular pains. And, the joyful moments are the days when the pills are in hand. Unfinished dreams of youth are forgotten. They’re things of the past. For those with dreams that never got past the six months the dreams may not be more than a disassociated foolish thought of long ago. Come the dawn, there may be a need for more pills or maybe something more substantial, like an oxygen tank to haul around in some way.
It’s all perspective.