To a song.

Oh the last one…

Now I’m thinking about death.

Sorry fam, damn.

There are plenty of ways to go out.

Like a whisper.

Or like a song.

The whisper fades.

Perhaps is hardly heard.

But the song is kept penned up in letters and emails and the sticky notes the friend wrote upon are saved so your eyes will glance over them and you will remember.

 

“Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out the window we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of the children waving at the crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls.

But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there our dreams will come true, and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering, waiting, waiting, waiting, for the station.

“When we reach the station, what will be it!” we cry.

“When I’m 18.”

“When I buy a new 450SL Mercedes-Benz!”

“When I put the last kid through college.”

“When I have paid off the mortgage!”

“When I get a promotion.”

“When I reach the age of retirement, I shall live happily ever after!”

Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us.

“Relish the moment” is a good motto, especially when couple with Psalm 118:24: “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” It isn’t the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.

So stop pacing te aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. That station will come soon enough. You should enjoy the ride–not wait for the station.” -The Station by Robert Hastings

 

For memories and envelops that have yet to be open and the curiosity that wonders what they say, but if opened it really means that it’s over.

To a song.

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