They say life passes you by in the flash of an eye. That’s truer for me than most. Every significant achievement in my life has been nothing but a flash of highlights.
One minute I was five-years old getting dropped off for my first day of school, the next I was walking out of an office building carrying a cardboard box full of a career’s worth of momentos. My entire journey through school, from kindergarten right through to the completion of college, and then a complete thirty-five-year career as an accountant, all seem to me to have occurred in the time it takes to make breakfast.
The problem with only living the highlights is that there is none of the filler moments that actually make up a life. I didn’t have the chance to fall in love or have a hobby; or if I did I’ll never know. My memories don’t extend beyond the highlights.
No-one believes my life was lived in the briefest of flashes. They say I’m just a precautionary tale for making everyday worthwhile, so that when you look back you can reminisce for more than a few minutes.
The word dementia is always included at some point and I’d have preferred it if that were true. At least that way I would have lived a full life. Not just a highlight reel.
The one positive from suddenly being sixty is that every extra cent I’d ever earned was waiting for me in a bank account. The problem with that was that I couldn’t spend it on anything fun without time passing me by.
You might be wondering, what’s the problem? Surely you can go skydiving or go on a hike and that’ll be it. Sadly it doesn’t work like that with me. Anything I do can be a gateway drug. One hike starts a compulsion and the next thing I know I’ve summited Mount Everest and the three years of training are gone in a flash. And one tandem skydive suddenly becomes a quest for a solo licence and I’ve jumped out of a hundred different planes all across the world.
I tried to live without making a lasting memory. But life is hard when all you can do is sit around the house. Not to mention it’s boring. Normal people complain that at the end life is just a serious of their greatest memories. For a while I wished that I could have built a life for myself and filled it with inconsequential memories to go along with the meaningful ones.
With each new experience I slide closer to death without ever having lived my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
There are encyclopedic sets of every super power ever recorded. Mine is entirely useless to anyone but me. But at least its not the worst of them all. So before I set off on this one last adventure that will surely see my life over in just a minute you need to know the name I’ve chosen. I haven’t had a lot of time to think of my alias, seeing as life passed me by too quickly, so surely I can be forgiven for choosing the obvious.
At birth the name I was given was Miles Montague. Very quickly I realised that it should have been Miles Montage.
Mr Montague was who I was.
Mr Montage was what I was.