a lost eulogy
Some things just never stay the same.
(and some things will never change.)
There is a certain feeling when the train just begins to move. Ever so slowly at first, past the platform, until the city is behind you and the countryside is speeding by. It's a feeling of freshness and discovery that seems to suit me well.
This time it was the first time I could find; I got to the station and jumped on the one at the top of the list of departures. Just in time and then the wheels begin to move, and I am going somewhere. Going where, I am quite sure... which station to get off? I'll find out when the time comes, but for now all I know is that I am going somewhere.
And it is a good feeling.
Every day can be filled with gumdrops and Pirate Ships if you let it. Today was exceptionally so - completely full of magic, the kind that as children came in little bottles of soapy water. The air felt of a static energy, and every bit of nature bathed in radiance. The bubbles we would make with our wands today would not disappear even when the winds had carried them far away.
In the course of the day, I have been completely drained, inspired, pushed around, enlightened, bursting with joy and radiance, intrigued, reflective and reminiscent, hopeful, and on the verge of tears.
And that is how I like it.
Yes, It was the most beautiful autumn day. The kind of day that makes one remember childhood, trick-or-treating, raking leaves, and family gatherings. I think, perhaps we should be together today. But then lately, there are many things we should have done that we have not. And so we are apart today. It was just over two autumns ago and we were together; in the leaves and the grass, fingers entwined, holding on to the last of the years warmth.
Has it all been forgotten?
Every time I am forced to leave her I begin to think that perhaps it will be the last time. I think that if I were to never see her again, I would be satisfied. It would suffice that I had known her. "It was good this time," I would say, or "We will always have this, that is something."
But then I wonder, will I ever be ready?
When the last time does come, will I ever be ready to accept that? I am forced to think that maybe, or even probably, when that final parting had been said, we will not know until it is too late. It will be long later, and there will always be something left unsaid. There will always be something put aside for next time, until finally next time never comes.
I found today that a dear friend has passed away.
(You will be missed, but never forgotten.)
OSCAR MAYER
September 1991 - October 29, 2004
He remains as calm at the end
As at the beginning
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