okay so i gotta get this out bc my brain is just… it’s doing the thing again. where it just loops. and i can’t sleep. it’s 2 am right now and i can hear my oldest coughing downstairs probably from the crap they picked up at daycare and my youngest is gonna be up for a feed in like an hour and i just spent the last 45 minutes trying to figure out if i packed the lunch for tomorrow. which i did. but i had to check like three times. and it all started with this stupid thing at work. my foreman, frank. he’s 59. been a foreman since like before i was born probably. runs his crews like a goddamn symphony. serious. he knows every bolt, every pour, every step of the framing process. he’s got this way of just… seeing the whole thing. he’s the guy you call when the shit hits the fan and you need someone to just *fix* it. you know? so frank is retiring. and everyone is like, oh that’s great, enjoy your golf, whatever. and we had this little luncheon, pizza and some bad cake, and everyone got up and said nice things. about his leadership, his dedication, how he taught them. and he got kinda teary-eyed, which frank never does, and he was like, “i’m gonna miss you guys. miss the noise. miss the push.” and he just kept looking around at all of us. like he was memorizing our faces. and then it hit me. like a brick to the head. this guy. his whole identity is his crew. his projects. the concrete. the steel. the timelines. he lives and breathes that stuff. and now… it’s just gone. he’s gonna be home. with his wife. probably staring at the tv. and it’s just… emptiness? is that the right word? like a vacuum where all that purpose used to be. and for some reason, seeing him, this tough as nails foreman, just… deflate like that. it really fucked me up. because i started thinking about myself. i’m 31. i’m building my own team here. i’m trying to make my mark. i’m still hustling. but the thought of getting to 59, and all that being… not there anymore. and what then? what do you do when the thing you poured your life into just… stops? i mean, i get it. everyone retires. but for some people, it’s not just a job, right? it’s a craft. it’s a purpose. it’s how they define themselves. and i wonder if i’m heading down that path. like, if someone took away my job, my current projects, the people i lead… would i feel that same gut punch? would i just be a shell? and then my mom called yesterday asking if i remembered to get the oil changed in her car and my dad needs me to fix his goddamn printer for the fifth time and i gotta figure out kindergarten applications next year and i’m like… am i just running on fumes for everyone else? am i just an automaton doing tasks until i hit 59 and then… what? i got no hobbies. i got no secret passion project. my passion is making sure the beam is set straight and the budget isn’t blown. is that weird? to see someone else’s ending and project it onto your own life like this? like a pre-emptive grief? for a future that might not even happen? i don’t know. maybe i’m just tired. maybe i need more than four hours of sleep. but frank just looked so… lost. and i can’t shake the image. it’s like my brain is doing this weird existential threat assessment and i don’t like the outcome. and i’m just… tired of feeling like i’m constantly failing someone, or some future version of myself. fuck. i need coffee. it’s too early for this.