Life remains a puzzle.

Aging. To me. Means reaching back. Farther and farther into time. Stuff happening. More than 80 years ago. When I was a 3-year-old child.  Some of it isn’t all that clear. But still, I remember being there. Alive and conscious.  I have a memory. That no doubt lacks detail. It’s fun. Trying to decipher. And give meaning. To the happenings. In the early years of my life. So much that one probably forgets. But why do I remember what seems like incidental things? Odd, isn’t it? Such as being pushed. In a buggy. Under the tracks of an elevated train. In Chicago, or so I assume. Having heard a loud rumble.  From the train. Overhead. Don’t remember being scared. Just curious. Asking myself, ‘What’s that noise?’  I’ve since put 2 and 2 together. And found the answer. But for so many things. There may never be answers. To piecing together. My brilliant life. Sad, isn’t it? I’ll never know it all. Big gaps. Yes, my life remains a puzzle. --Jim Broede