Because we're not perfect

I am sitting in the backyard, sipping from a beer and barbequing my dinner because I never could afford to replace the air conditioner that broke on me last summer. Inside, the heat is like a hot, stifling blanket. While I sat there waiting for the chicken wings to cook, I heard a young voice singing from a few houses over.

I couldn't see her because there are fences between me and the house next to mine. I couldn't really understand what she was singing as she moved back and forth through her yard. All of a sudden, I could hear her clearly as she must have turned in my direction. And I heard her sing, "Because we're not perfect," before she turned away and became unintelligible once more.

For some reason, it struck a nerve. It made me smile. One of those sad, understanding smiles. Where I knew full well that this girl had no idea what she was singing about. Then I heard her father call out to her, telling her to come inside for dinner.

As I sat outside alone, though in the company of the chirping birds, I felt the familiar bitter disappointment start to creep into my mind. I could feel the despair over how little control I had in my life. Stuck in a spiralling descent of needing to find work and being unable to even get the attention of those who are looking for workers.

I took another sip from my quickly warming beer and decided that I would worry about dinner for now. I told myself that I would try to discipline my mind, reminding myself that tomorrow, it would be a better day. It just has to be.

As I checked on the wings, I hoped to myself that Life treats fairly with that young girl. I hoped that disappointment doesn't reign in her life, dragging her down with despair. Who the heck am I kidding here? As in the lyrics that young girl sang, we're not perfect. Life isn't perfect. And hoping against reality is nothing more than an exercise in futility.