Long Gone?

The Old Sycamore Trees

 Maybe it’s a little too soon to start another life post, but for the better part of the morning I’m going to be arguing with two pharmacies over who gets my prescriptions. So while I’m in a hopeful frame of mind I thought I would at least start this story. This morning began like most stories, only this time I slept through the night, and my bride was the one that kept waking up. I told her I hadn’t noticed her getting up, in which she replied with a snarky, “I know!”, and thus began my peaceful morning.

The neighborhood cat is hanging outside the neighbors window this morning. Apparently ignoring my mental pleads of “Good Morning”. But I shrugged it off as just another cat picking and choosing their victim for the moment. But isn’t that how most of us deal with who we want to deal with, and who we don’t. For a moment I caught the smell of wild honeysuckles across my nose. As if to remind me of my old yard and the scents I caught on the old park trail. Speaking of my old yard, if you followed me in the past you would be so disappointed with how the yard looks now. The land has been sold and the once tall sycamore trees are now cut to the ground, the old house is gone, and the land smoothed out to expand the church parking lot. I guess the sentimentality of the current congregation is long gone.

But as for us there’s not much time left to mourn considering we were reminded nearly every day, it wasn’t our house. We were just tenants. But as my Granny would often remind me, what’s done is done, and there ain’t no worrying about it now. And in a way I know she was right. When possession is 100% of the law, there ain’t much a working man or woman can do about it. So we go with the flow, providing for our families as best we can. Watching the world sink into greater chaos, all for the ego of being number one.  

#Memories #LongGone #Progress #Possession #Zen