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Such Is Life

I am always somewhere, at some time.  We are always somewhere.  Sometimes we are somewhere we want to be.  Sometimes we are somewhere we don’t want to be.  Sometimes we are somewhere else, but we are always somewhere. Sometimes something is somewhere somehow for some reason.  We may not know when it is or what it is or where it is or how and why it’s there.  Yet, we know it’s there, somewhere. It’s here, it’s there, and it’s everywhere.  Existence is still here. I’m still here. Continued existence, continues.  Who can endure longer a man living in his past or a man dying to find his future?  Sitting and talking to the old man this weekend, I listened as he spoke of his life.  He told me of the war he fought the lung he lost and the heart he was given.  He talked of the love he found and the love he lost.  He had lost many things in his life.  In his life he saw many things misplaced. Some things he lost were never missed; or he got over them in time.  Other things he could never put out of his mind. He would never stop thinking about it. Out of all the things he lost throughout his life, she was the most precious, his wife.  I understand now why he is who he is, why he does what he does, he’s a man of the past.  He lives in the past.  He loves the past and cares nothing of the future.  He lives there with her, in that moment of time in his mind. He found love long-ago; he kept it close to his heart mind and soul. In an instant of time love was lost, but never forgotten.

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