Very little distinguishes any day from its tomorrow.
Consider which days you remember vividly.
Not calendar reminders, not birthdays, anniversaries …
When you rode a bike, that first time.
Or taught someone to.
That day we laughed till we peed when that funny thing happened – means nothing to anyone who wasn’t there. Means so much to those who were. Once only …
We get it, if it was a dinner party, picnic, or public event, but what if we were a crowd of one?
In a chair.
On a street corner, under bridge, on roof top.
When someone incredible entered our life.
Or too soon, too permanently and so swiftly left it.
Creative life, turning point, riding some cusp-ridge of resolution.
Too soon to tell.
Can’t make this stuff up.
column written/ published from Calgary, AB
morning walk: -5C/22F, walking without Gusta (she’s already on holiday at the Country Club Pet Resort …), overcast/crisp, light breeze – feels odd to not have the shoulder-torque of holding reigns of scent sniffing wonder-pooch keeping me from any semblance of a strait path.
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