A Grateful Defiance

Well, Universe,
here we are, just you and me,
and I’ve got to hand it to you—
this job, this daily grind,
it keeps the lights on,
puts food on the table,
and, hell, it even saves me from the endless puzzle
of assembling IKEA on my weekends.
I guess that’s something to tip my hat to,
a small rebellion against the absurd.

Fifty-four feels like forty on a good day,
if I don’t push too hard,
if I move slow and steady in the morning.
The years add up,
but I keep moving,
because what else is there?
The body creaks, the mirror lies,
but there’s a kind of beauty in that, isn’t there?
In knowing, and still choosing to rise.

The kids, they’re running wild,
making the same foolish moves I did once,
and I can’t help but see myself in their chaos.
Sorry, Mumma, for what I put you through—
now I get it.
But there’s a strange comfort in the cycle,
in watching them stumble,
knowing they’ll stand up again,
just like I did.

And the friends,
we’ve grown older, sure,
traded our wild nights for early beds,
but there’s a quiet triumph in that, too.
We laugh, not just because it’s funny,
but because it’s all we can do
in the face of time’s relentless march.
We made it this far,
and there’s a kind of victory in that.

My car still runs,
faithful as ever,
and doesn’t judge when I’m belting out 80s tunes,
stopped at a red light,
feeling alive,
if only for a moment.
That moment’s enough, sometimes—
a small slice of defiance,
a way to spit in the face of the absurd.

The cat, my dawn companion,
nudges me awake at 5 AM,
like he knows something I don’t,
something about the day that I’ve yet to figure out.
Maybe it’s just hunger,
or maybe there’s wisdom in his persistence—
a reminder that life goes on,
and so must I.

I’m thankful for the small things,
the snacks that didn’t run out,
the couch that holds me when the day is done.
And yes, even for the office lighting,
that merciful glow that hides the gray,
lets me believe, for just a while,
that I’ve still got time,
still got some fight left in me.

So here’s to laughing at the absurdity of it all,
to finding meaning where there seems to be none,
to waking up each day,
knowing it’s all a bit ridiculous,
but choosing to live it anyway,
with a touch of hope,
a dash of defiance,
and maybe, just maybe,
a reason to smile in the end.