Temporary

On the surface my life seems so temporary. I don’t have a place of my own. Don’t have any money in my bank account. I have no inheritance to leave my children. Hell, even my mail comes to a rented Post Office Box. I grew up in the 60’s and 70’s, where Dads worked one job and retired. They owned their own homes and could pay them off. 

My life the other hand seems to be on loan. Don’t get me wrong, I made peace with my situation a long time ago. Still it does sting a little to hear my peers talk about building up their home equity and buying new bass boats. 
 
I suppose you could say my lifestyle affords me the luxury to be a minimalist. That having little means you have little to worry about. Man, if only that were true. I suppose it’s more a mental thing then anything else, to see yourself in such a temporary state. Knowing that the thousands of dollars you’ve invested in rental properties has lined the pockets someone else’s nest egg.
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But I try to keep those thoughts out of my head. Reminding myself that everything in life is just temporary. The time we have on Earth, the comfort or discomfort we endure, and the impact we have on the world around us. All we can really do is be where we are right now. At the moment I am writing this story. Reminding you and myself that life gives no guarantees. That the best we can do is live in peace and try to leave things in a little better shape than we found them.