PART 38

What were you going to be when you grew up? When did you grow up? What occurrences occurred that kept you from that childhood goal? I wanted to be an archeologist. And I know you probably think that’s cute, but it wasn’t. I was pretty serious about the whole deal. I spent days digging massive holes in my back yard. Once they were big enough to hold me; I would jump down inside and wait. I assumed positioning myself inside one of these hand made craters could help my senses become keen. I assumed I would be able to sit underground and still myself. Hold my breath. And then? I’d simply KNOW the exact location of all lost treasures in my vicinity. I assumed I would be a sort of reverse light house that could shine extinct species into existence and then my grasp.

But we all know what assuming does and doesn’t do. It does make for an adventurous afternoon, but it does not make one an archeologist. FACT: No actual archeologist has ever come into their profession through assumptions. It’s true. Look it up. Who knows though. Maybe my dreams are late bloomers. Maybe they stayed up too late in my past life and are just now waking up with bloodshot eyes and frumpy hair. “Woah.” they comment as they rise from their proverbial bed. “Sorry about that. Last life was intense. What are we doing? Oh, shit. You’re 28? You wanted to be an archeologist? O.K. O.K. we can still do this. No seriously. Every single moment is another chance to turn it all around… or whatever. Let’s get on it. Where is your shovel?”

And we would be off. I’d wake up on my 29th birthday and decide to clear my head from all life experiences by taking a long walk through the Tennessee hills. I’d climb a crest and find a waterfall. I’d strip down to nothing and fall through its watery fingers to the small, reflective pool below. I’d scrap my elbow, as I landed, against something sharp and ancient. Gasping from the pain; I would reach into the watery grave and reveal a beautiful, ivory femur. Human, but not human. The missing link. The answer to a fiery spiritual/scientific debate that has waged on for years. Returning to my clothes; I’d pull out a pocket knife. I would thank my dreams for awakening later in life. I would carve a sentence onto the surface of the prehistoric bone. A hawk would swoop down and take it from me. The treasure would be lost. 1,000 years later… an actual archeologist would find it. With his magnified glass he would read carved across the prehistoric entity: WHY DIDN’T I WANT TO BE AN ASTRONAUT?