Perspective

I enjoy the holiday season, not just because of gift-giving and general merriment, but because I return to where I grew up and visit old friends. This year was a little different, though, as a classmate of mine from elementary school all the way through high school recently died. It wasn't until I arrived in town and spoke to some people that I learned the details of what had happened. It left me in disbelief, but with renewed perspective.

My friend had become a homeless drug addict. He would break into vacant houses and do whatever else he needed to survive, wandering the neighborhoods where he and many others of us had grown up. He eventually lost his will to live and overdosed in a store parking lot.

When I consider my occasional fits of nostalgia and sentimentalism when visiting my hometown, I find it nearly impossible to imagine the despair he must have felt every day. To see the same places over and over again where he once was young and full of promise; to think about how his childhood friends had gone on to live prosperous lives; and perhaps to occasionally bump into someone he once knew from those days, are all more than even a healthy person could tolerate.  

Today I took a drive to the area where he spent his last few days and walked around, almost as if to let him know that he wasn't alone out there. What I came away with was to cherish friends and family as much as possible while they're still here, and to remember that everyday problems don't amount to a hill of beans.