Missing people and places seems to be a common thread throughout life. I never miss myself though - who I was. Why is that? Who I am cannot fathom going backwards internally. For all the wishes to rewind and redo something, to go back...yet I always want to go back with my present self. I want to know so much. I wake up with fresh questions that I write down in letters. Not knowing is the hardest part.
Is this forever? The next 48 days a prelude of what life will be? I don't know. I don't have the answers.
Only, right now, I wish Aloysious and I, and someone else could curl up and nap the rainy day away. No answers. Just being.
No comments:
Post a Comment