A recent return visit

16 July 2015

I am in a place I once lived. The trees have grown. Roads and paths have taken new courses meandering through the town that was once so familiar. The changes are slightly unsettling.
I look at people passing by and wonder if I once knew them or they I. Everything and everyone has moved on. Their lives have since had stories that are unknown to me and mine belong elsewhere.
Somehow the sounds are there. The egret or its descendant is where it always was but a gravel bank has now formed perhaps as a result of a storm I had read about. The seagulls still drift in from the coast. The schools still reverberate the playground joy and the game still holds the same competitive edge before the bell goes.
Slipping back onto what was once familiar terrain is more than a little unsettling. Its a reminder of mortality; the ticking clock. The day that draws ever closer to the last waking awareness. The miracle of the moment. And when that time comes it will have all been as if a dream. So capture the day. The true miracle of life is not life itself but the fact that we are conscious of it. See in others the passing miracle and make their moments count. Life is too precious to do otherwise.
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