All we’ll have is wistful memories

I miss summer for hanging laundry on the clothesline and taking bicycle rides to the post office. I miss childhood for splashing in the creek and spending days with my grandparents, picking berries and playing badminton. 

I miss you for being loved and loving back.

Some of these things, I’ll never get to relive. The moment of experience is long since gone. My pap’s berry bushes have been cut down, and my gram is no longer here to swing a racket. The creek has run dry, and all I can do is hope you never do.

If all these moments could be made eternal, I’d never want to go. But, as it is, I now understand why many elderly get tired of living and gladly await their time to die.

Most–if not all–good things don’t last. Optimists will argue otherwise, but if you write a list of everything and everyone you love, you’ll see there is nothing on there that won’t fade.

I guess that’s why carpe diem is such a popular phrase. The only semblance of comfort for the passing of time is knowing that you must make a conscious effort to seize each and every day. And, sometimes, that fails too.

Or maybe I’m just feeling extra melancholically sentimental today. Hopefully, I’ll think differently tomorrow.