Sand
I’m waiting for a phone call that I know is coming but I don’t want to receive. To take the call, to answer the phone, will be to acknowledge the inevitable and accept the unacceptable fact that a piece of my current life has slipped into my past with the soft hiss of a trillion grains of sand passing through time. Despite my dislike for them in general, my cell phone is usually within reach—in my pocket, on my desk, charging on the coffee table—but I’ve never been so acutely aware of its presence or felt it weigh so heavily in my pocket. Nor have I ever been so scared to hear it ring, or so reluctant to answer when it does. But when the time comes I will answer it, and I will follow the chain of motions set off as consequence. I will feel the sand turn damp with tears, and I, wrapped in the warm of my family, will look back with fondness at the beach I can no longer visit. And in the deepest of my sadness, I will remember that there are other trails of sand to follow, other beaches to enjoy. Even as these run out, more will come and go long after my own hour glass has emptied. That is fact. That is life.
Comments
Don't like the sound of this post. Hope all is well.
Posted by: Sonicfrog | April 6, 2009 12:30 PM
Beautifully expressed. Love you!
Posted by: Mom | April 6, 2009 05:15 PM