If you were to cross the road and hurt your toe, I know that I will never know. As we go on to take different roads and move on across different shores, there is something that happens to our relationships. Something that estranges, disconnects, disintegrates. I know that you still think of me. I know this because I find myself thinking about you. And thoughts rarely get seeded on their own. It comes from you to I and from I to you until one of us is alive. Old relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.
Rajesh, Everything depends on what you mean by this...
ReplyDeleteMy 'this' can be quite busy, filled with things I have to do in the form of chores for the family, the house, church, and others. Sometimes I wonder if what I do makes a difference - perhaps it dosen't except to my family. But if there were not a lot of other people like me doing what they can to help, then the act of omission would be noticable.
ReplyDeleteI love to be out doors, and when I feel a little disheartened I take a breath of fresh air and somehow I smile.