10 August 2009 2:22 PM
Sitting by the hourglass
I'll say a little prayer for you.
It dawned on me, how every second half of the year would turn out to be so mellow. As if the first half had consisted of enough jovial, upbeat rhythm to echo suitably for the rest of the year, gradually slowing down and retiring into soft almost quiet moments.
I've almost forgotten how my days never ran that way, how then, every month was all the same, maybe a tad boring or a tad stressful or a tad too fast-paced, but never so out of scale.
Because there will always be birthdays, and anniversaries, and more birthdays, and then there are deaths and more birthdays and anniversaries, and it is these occasions that become the milestone of our mourning for loss.
Because we always forget, we always will forget, about treasuring the people who mean the most to us. Who we love and cherish so casually and with ease that it becomes an everyday thing; thus overlooked, something held only at the back of our minds lest these moments or occasions come. The people who make us forget to think for the less fortunate, about the unthinkable yet we believe in the far-fetched - in forever. The people who make our lives seem so complete. Oh so completely, normal.
Only when it is gone, do we realise how perfect it was then.
I'll say a little prayer for you.
It dawned on me, how every second half of the year would turn out to be so mellow. As if the first half had consisted of enough jovial, upbeat rhythm to echo suitably for the rest of the year, gradually slowing down and retiring into soft almost quiet moments.
I've almost forgotten how my days never ran that way, how then, every month was all the same, maybe a tad boring or a tad stressful or a tad too fast-paced, but never so out of scale.
Because there will always be birthdays, and anniversaries, and more birthdays, and then there are deaths and more birthdays and anniversaries, and it is these occasions that become the milestone of our mourning for loss.
Because we always forget, we always will forget, about treasuring the people who mean the most to us. Who we love and cherish so casually and with ease that it becomes an everyday thing; thus overlooked, something held only at the back of our minds lest these moments or occasions come. The people who make us forget to think for the less fortunate, about the unthinkable yet we believe in the far-fetched - in forever. The people who make our lives seem so complete. Oh so completely, normal.
Only when it is gone, do we realise how perfect it was then.
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