We are now starting into our
forty-fifth week of the Zombie Apocalypse. There are times where I have to
wonder if this blog is even reaching anybody. Part of me is hoping that this
will be some sort of historical record that humanity will look back on. I am
not saying that my joke that passes for writing skills belongs next to the
Diary of Anne Frank or anything. But I do hope we are remembered for this.
I can tell you that I have been doing
this for so long now 1) it has kind of become second nature and 2) I often have
to look back to ask myself “Have I covered this topic already?”
I will tell you this. I kind of wish I
had done this back with my old life. I guess if I had a parting gift, some
words of wisdom to pass down to my grandchildren (you know, if we survive
this), it would be to do a journal entry like this.
Now, Pre-Apocalypse Me would have
scoffed at this idea. I can hear me now. “Yeah because my life is so
important.” And I can see where some people might see it as arrogance to write
out some daily thoughts and musings. But how nice would it be to look back at
my written thoughts regarding Alex’s birth or other big moments in my life. I
doubt Facebook had an archiving feature where you could print out all your
postings as a showcase of who you are.
There was a saying and I cannot
remember it fully but it was something like you may only be one person in the
world but to someone you are the world. I butchered that saying. I feel like I
have been pretty accurate and pretty truthful on here. For all I know some
stranger is reading this fifty years after the apocalypse has been diverted and
mankind is on its way back to the light.
I know when I used to read
autobiographies, I would feel this strange connection with the authors and I
began to feel like I knew them as a person. Now, I will be the first to tell
you, my life was not exciting at all until everything began to unravel in humanity
as a result of flesh-eating zombies.
But in a different world, in a
different life, I might have had more than one kid. I might have had two or
three. Maybe a baby girl. And maybe they would want to know the thoughts and
feelings of their father and know the things that were going on in his life at
a certain time.
I wish I had done something like that
in my old life. But, damn, don’t we all have those kinds of regrets?
