A Moment In Time

mike james and barb (1)

 

Early December fiery 5 o’clock sun signaling its defeat and imminent rest for the night.
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Behind, a fire truck pulls forth, signaling the close of a day. A squirrel braves the cooling pavement, dashing wildly.
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Ahead, the festive lights of the square blaze by unseen hand and invisible switch, the season of mirth and merry heralded.
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A jogger, a biker, and ambling walkers approach, their demeanor one of determination and process. None sees that the sun sets for them, too, but perhaps not today.
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Below, the recent widower arrives first; his tired gait a testament to his apt fatigue. A door is held open and he enters, frightened of a possible future absent his own heart.
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A childhood friend, alone, reluctant, marching toward the relentless and yet singular ritual, hands in pockets, shuffling.
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We are all observers, watching even ourselves from our own windows, peering askance at others traveling, peculiar yet familiar, not wishing to look directly at our shared loss.
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A gathering of souls trapped in their bodies, gathered to witness and cherish one of their own. Laughter, hugs, memories and the discomfort of failed words, all tinged with appreciation.
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For a delicate moment, brief as it may be, they swim together in love, toward one another, bonded by an absence that burns.
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A whisper, a tickle in my mind. “Let my life be so,” I ponder, a secret smile touching my lips.
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Let me return to my hazy nap, the world receding, taking its perpetual promise of unknowing with it.
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Hers was a fine life, the fruits of which are still ripening, not soon to fade from memory. Her eyes now averted toward another promise, a good life, a good person, a world of friends and family.
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PS: “Life is never more meaningful than in our shared small steps, nor more appreciated than in times of bittersweet regard.”

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