This year I got rid of most of my stuff. From top to bottom, tip to tail I got rid of all the physical, cumbersome material stuff that clutters up a small bungalow(and my inner peace). Since my brother died almost 10 years ago now(it started then but just becomes more relevant with each passing year), more and more I see the unstoppable force that life is.
We mourn things that never have a chance at permanence, even at their very beginnings. It's a short battle. Every so often I freak out because my world is so small. Socially small. I inherited a hermit like proclivity for surviving, for taking it as it is. I mean what can you do at 40?
I think the idea of good friend is a flight of fancy for me. A magical whim that only exists in Judy Blume books and the movie Beaches. I indulge that fantasy when it happens. I cry at sad movies or even the obituaries of people I don't even know. Every life is beautiful, even if only for one moment. Here's to all of us.