I see this truck and treeevery day.
The truck I've noticed, because...well...if I have to explain, you wouldn't understand. But naturally, I want it.
This particular morning, though, with thick fog draping the world in damp, sweet bokeh, that tree all heavy with petals, I drove by and then turned around, because I knew I would never see it again.
Not like this.
The world rearranges itself in a different order every day, and we seldom even see it. A different set of features, a different offering of sensations, to which we become both immune and blind.
The true curse of time is becoming well and truly inoculated to life.
Thinking of this, I understood again how things that are familiar are actually always precious and rare, it's just that we forget. Some kind of universal Alzheimers which seizes us, this taking for granted.
If there isn't a cure, then there is at least a thing to hold the loss at bay and it's called; turn around and look.
Except we usually can't take the time. Most of us already owe more time than we can afford to give.
But I've had my fair share of loss, for my age. Not as much as some, more than others. But enough to have learned a lesson or two from it. Enough to already know the song that plays every time my blood pushes through my veins.
a drum beat singing; I-am mor-tal. I-am mor-tal. Maybe the blessing of thatcadence is that I frequently am reminded not to owe my time lightly, not to indebt myself so I never have a chance to turn around and look.
That thought strikes me especially hard when the things you see every day are momentarily strange.
Like when; Your beloved's face falls into an unfamiliar light and for a fraction of a second, you wonder who that stranger is. That stranger with the deep pathways of time's march beaten like a trail on their face. For a moment you stare, before blinking hard and willfully suspending belief again.
So on the heels of that line of thinking, I spent a frivolous morning just...looking. These photos are what I collected.