When my time comes - to finally let go of it all - there are certain memories I want to cherish till the end. I’ve been collecting them awhile now, perhaps as an elder pondering his own mortality. It’s a strangely pleasant task, all in all. Glad that I was here, and there, and in so many similar as well as disparate places. So much shared, and so much kept quietly hidden. Now the poet Longfellow, steps into this quiet:
“Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.”
