Looking back to tomorrow.
Now I’m sitting here, on this bench, this beautiful view, and I can tell all the ones who are already gone how much I love them too. I’ve been so lucky in this life, so many good long years, the places seen and scenes placed in my memory. A very, very good life. Unbelievably lucky.
My fingers are numb. These fingers have felt so much, so many things, but now they’re numb, and they’ve felt their last. Thank you fingers.
There are my feet down there, gone to all my senses but sight, if I wanted to lean and look. They’ve taken so many steps, taken me so many wonderful places. Rest now feet.
It’s getting colder now.
The religions of the world never interested me much, beyond their value as psycological indicators and social currents made manifest, but I like to think I’m a spiritual person. I believe after one dies their spirit can go back and revisit whatever parts of their life just lived they want to. Like a personal library, they can ride along behind the eyes, in the fingers, above the feet, through the good times, the bad, whatever the spirit wills, they’ve earned the privilege.
I know I have good times to go back and revisit.
Then when the spirit has had enough of those memories it can choose, to go back and be born again, another try, or it can embrace oblivion, maybe be recycled into another soul.
I don’t feel cold any more.
I’ll go back to a good time, an exciting time. I’ll go back to March 2, 2012. I was leaving Belgium after a very good year and a half there, setting out for another adventure. First a train to a hotel in a new city, a nervous night there, then a plane across the sea, then…
Yes, I think I’ll go back and relive that, because I know I made the most of the ineffable gift that is life during that time.
Goodbye. Thank you. Hello.