Life is funny, we say; we are funnier, if you contemplate.
We pine for what we thought we had, but never really did. We miss that thing that never was in our life. And do we really have what we have now?
It is nothing, just a sporadic case of me being flummoxed by a trove of memories that may seem to recede into the forgotten corners of the mind but despite all the gathered cobwebs, it glistens, fresh and untarnished, as bang! it assails you, unaware and unprepared. I cherish what I have today, with little but treasured regrets of the ‘what-had-been’, with simple joys and sublime happiness, and people to share and witness each others’ journeys across and beyond, some together, some solitary.
But standing on the verge of a change forthcoming, flitting across a myriad of pictures in my heart, in a moment of searching for the lost, I pause. I mourn for a lost soul, a colored and a bright life that I hadn’t known before it was no more; I grieve for a broken marriage, one that shriveled up and died, thirsty and pleading; I rage at an used and abused love where the love was conquered by all; and lastly, I pine for a friend, loved, lost and never mine, but one who keeps her tabs and her place in the pages of my non-existent diary. Love hurts but rarely dies.