Petty loss edition.
I love my hair color. It's a variegated chestnut with hints of red, the kind of hair other people coax from the bottle. But in just a few short years, I'll start to go gray, and a few years after that, bald. And I'm acutely aware of all the years I wasted wishing my hair were not my hair.
I'm dwelling on this to escape the other, far greater losses barreling down the track.
Friday, September 30, 2016
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Friday, September 16, 2016
September 15: 3/4 of the year gone.
The older I get, the more I understand broken-heartedness to be the human condition.
To be alive is to endure heartbreak after heartbreak, some petty, some bone-deep, some clean, some shattering. We are heartbroken by what we have done and by what we have left undone. We break and are broken in turn.
I will never ski.
The father I knew is gone.
My son is growing up.
There are no more rotary telephones.
If I have broken your heart, I am sorry; you have probably broken mine.
To be alive is to endure heartbreak after heartbreak, some petty, some bone-deep, some clean, some shattering. We are heartbroken by what we have done and by what we have left undone. We break and are broken in turn.
I will never ski.
The father I knew is gone.
My son is growing up.
There are no more rotary telephones.
If I have broken your heart, I am sorry; you have probably broken mine.
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