I like to float along on the warm, lazy river. When I am not hungry or fidgety, I can accept each gentle sway of the water with pleasure. My finger aches and I realize I am alive, still alive. I realize that I am aging, sliding through time. I have been down several lovely byways. I see beautiful trees, lovely people with nourishing smiles.
I pick up my mail in small towns along the river. I receive messages about bills, deaths, illnesses. I get warnings that my eyesight is going to deteriorate, my heart will stop beating in just a few decades, or maybe days. But I have developed a stubborn habit. It is built on a conviction that I am limited. I don't know about this and I don't understand that but my stubborn habit of seeing how what is sour turns sweet and what is happy turns sad. I habitually look for the interesting twists, where the delight deteriorates but some doesn't, and the death and destruction delivers gifts but some doesn't.
I stop here and there, for a kiss or a kitchen. I see a kindergarten and the energy, the love, the curiosity that pulses from it increases my happiness, stirs memories of fond events and people. Thanks, God
Bill
Main blog: Fear, Fun and Filoz
Main web site: Kirbyvariety
