For appearances sake, I am the typical family man, with 2.5 children, a nice, but modest home, and a good job. These were not easily won treasures, although my wife might describe it differently. My wife is the one who keeps me focused, on track you might say. The track is well known to many as a wheel, an endless wheel of life. It needs men like me to keep rolling. Men like me.
I suppose the start of every man’s introduction to the wheel begins around the age of sixteen, when obligatory feelings arise of seeking employment other than mowing the lawn. Graduation, college, and then the wheel gains power.
I was initially eager to jump on the wheel. I met a woman who made me feel all powerful, and I constantly proved this by maintaining our lifestyle, fathering children, and providing the typical “husband of the year” profile. My wife could be heard exclaiming my many achievements to her friends at social gatherings. My children would defend me to their schoolmates if needed. By all accounts, I am the perfect man in the perfect position and take my place on the wheel with pride.
But I am not that man. As I started this confession of sorts, I said in the beginning, it is for appearances. Underneath the facade, I am tired. I want to stop the wheel and get off. I need to start over, at sixteen, with dreams intact.