Can any granite slab hold enough space for all that should be said?
Epitaph, or epic poem, what treatise – set of words – sums this story?
Surrounded by life. Moving. Fast. Treelike, rooted witnesses, we aren’t moving much. YES, we’ll be remembered. Stories told. Swiftly forgotten. So much dust under life’s carpet. NO, never enough time, life spins – spinning planet pace. Who knew it could be our last each time we sat on a beach, park bench or lingered in aprez-lunch conversation?
In those moments, anchoring ourselves awhile – we saw our spot, our place in life. As trees see …
Where are we going, what will we do when we’ve arrived? We’ll look around, get familiar – taste rewards, bathe in victory’s delicious warmth, delirious self-congratulatory inebriation. Then what?
Awash, so many wants, so few real needs, every day – pursuits, satisfactions, gratifications, fulfillment, shopping lists stroked off, bucket-list exhausted …
Quests for things, easy. Places, experiences – for the taking. Put it on the card …
Qualities, not so easy to shop for. Not displayed in shop windows, there’s a shelf for them but they seem to be out of stock most of the time. We’ll have to find some that fell off a truck …
Values? Who said we should pack those for jungle-maze-daze, hacking away while our guides cleared our path with machetes?
Where were we, exactly, before we realized we didn’t know where we were headed and when we realized we didn’t know how to get where we were going?
What did we know, when did we know it – and when did we realize we were too late?
Would that not be so sad, to look back on a life, not so much with regret but rather a profound realization of having done so little when there was so much time to do so much – what were we thinking?
Are we too late – failed to schedule, forgot to book tickets to our own gala?
Ought to be a sell-out but those tributes never measure up to their billing. Are we some forgotten time, left off the program – or just not spelled correctly. Somebody calls us by the wrong name. Really? Yes. Everybody laughs for a minute, it’s a nothing …
And then we realize, how much nothing it has been.
Our vision, wide or narrow, won’t propel us far or well without a focus. We’ll probably miss the most important places, most memorable moments, best chances to achieve fame or fortune. We’ll never win the Oscar, but we can always order the veal or the trout. They never taste as good as the menu extols …
We can’t arrive too early, or too late, we are guest honorees – being roasted, toasted and rewarded for our Oscar-worthy performance.
Will we ever be?
Most, not. Ever.
Many, only at our final send-off.
Words said of us, about us, over us. Some tears will be shed. And we hope they’ll laugh some too – about how much fun we were having around. About who loved us. And who we loved.
Never mid-trip, we’ve always had one journey.
Remind me, what I said I wanted from this pilgrimage.
About the time we first said hello.
written / published from Calgary, AB
morning walk: 3C/37F, calm and chilly, a few clouds for a colourful sunrise, a long walk to wear off yesterday’s lunch-dessert combo which Gusta appreciated …
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