I thank GirlieOnTheEdge for this week’s Six Sentence Stories prompt — the word is LABYRINTH.
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I lost myself in the complex labyrinth of life.
A journey from child all the way through to wife, mother, wife, mother.
The career dream lost along the way, day to day drudgery of peon administrator, soul destroying lowliness became the way.
Middle age is the veil of invisibility, where you are now lost not only to yourself but the uprising youth, who do not admire, respect, aspire to anything that you grew, shared, owned, developed or gave.
Why aspire to old age when I could give in now, let go of that dream of retirement, forever downtime, sofa comfort, cruising, reading of books, eating of fine cheeses, imbibing of finer wines.
I don’t look to a haunting purgatory, heavenly thereafter, glorious afterlife, and so should shoot straight for that hole in the ground, because I’d need to have faith in a higher power waiting to take my hand and help me grow and prepare for the next life for that to have any point.
RANDOM THOUGHTS by Trish 
Well written, Six, Trish. No, it isn’t always cupcakes and balloons. And therein lies the value in writing. Catharsis.
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Yep!
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‘Middle age is the veil of invisibility, where you are now lost not only to yourself but the uprising youth, who do not admire, respect, aspire to anything that you grew, shared, owned, developed or gave.’ Twas ever thus and thinking and writing about it is a perfectly natural progression. Great Six, Trish.
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Those years are hard, but they do end, and a career can start later. That’s what i did.
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For me, retirement is finally having time to do some of the other things that got laid by the wayside, along the way. No hole in the ground for me, but creation, art, nature, wellness, and finally having to time to listen to my kids!
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Your post makes perfect sense to me!
I want nothing to do with a hole in the ground. Neither do I want to be ashes.
Set me out to be consumed by a hungry fellow traveler that appeared by a separate path of evolution.
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touchingly say, hope this is fictoin.
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Jings, Trish, this is pretty bleak stuff.
I hope it’s fiction and doesn’t reflect any reality.
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We write because we have something to say, it is said 🤔
And sometimes, it’s not all cupcakes and balloons.
But I’m ok.
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Good observation in that last paragraph. The alternative to shooting for that hole in the ground is faith in a higher power to take one’s hand.
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