I write. A lot.
I carry a 4x 6 memo book with me all the time to write anything and everything that I think, maybe read, grocery list, things to do, names and phone numbers, appointments, etc. What I write mostly are prayers and gratitude
Feeling grateful that my Aunt called me this morning and wanted to write about it, I picked one memo book amongst a stack. Opened it. A full memo book dated 2003.
I started rereading the content and I noticed one page is dog marked.
It’s so strange to sit here and believed that time existed in infinite supply. I didn’t know that time move on with ever-increasing speed and played havoc with everything thought I could live for tomorrow. We invest so much in our dreams and hopes. And then in framed photographs, we live up for prosperity next to other pictures.
Stare out into space never to be reached again.
Soon I will be an old, white-haired lady into whose lap someone places a baby, saying: “Smile, Grandma.”
I who was picking flowers just the other day cannot fathom that it may all be over tomorrow.
Was it because I saw this white-haired woman as I stare into space and her staring at something? Her hair is just as white as mine. But I don’t consider myself old. Not just yet.
Sofie, whoever you are, your thoughts are my thoughts.