You may tire of me as our December sun is setting cause I'm not who I used to be....
are you ever scared of what you'll become?
sunday a couple came into work to celebrate their 43rd anniversary. and the wife was just beaming. and the husband was so sickeningly indifferent. and on their way out, the wife approached me and asked, "i know my husband doesn't want to, but would you mind taking a picture of the two of us?" and as I agreed and got the camera ready, they leaned in. She smiled, he sneered and muttured, "Dammit caroline....." under his breath. As she came back to get it from me, she whispered the most heartfelt thank you I had ever heard, as he quickly ducked out the door, not even waiting to hold it open for her.
43 years of marriage.
That was absolutely heartbreaking.
Then I read things from Sarah's journal, about how she watched a six year old on the beach cry out in agony as her father got gunned down. It makes me laugh that while these people barely have time to search for inner peace, we can sit around and get upset over problems that we're practically creating for ourselves.
What is it that can make two incredibly seperate stories, like the anniversary one and the child watching her father die, hit us in such similar ways? Obviously the second one is much more wrenching, its the kind of story you want to think about when you had a shit day at work and you go, "Well at least I didn't watch my dad die today!"
But the first one somehow makes me just as sad.
I think because its all death. One is loud, bloody, external. The other wages the quietest wars inside the human vessel. But either way they both leave the world devoid of a soul...
sunday a couple came into work to celebrate their 43rd anniversary. and the wife was just beaming. and the husband was so sickeningly indifferent. and on their way out, the wife approached me and asked, "i know my husband doesn't want to, but would you mind taking a picture of the two of us?" and as I agreed and got the camera ready, they leaned in. She smiled, he sneered and muttured, "Dammit caroline....." under his breath. As she came back to get it from me, she whispered the most heartfelt thank you I had ever heard, as he quickly ducked out the door, not even waiting to hold it open for her.
43 years of marriage.
That was absolutely heartbreaking.
Then I read things from Sarah's journal, about how she watched a six year old on the beach cry out in agony as her father got gunned down. It makes me laugh that while these people barely have time to search for inner peace, we can sit around and get upset over problems that we're practically creating for ourselves.
What is it that can make two incredibly seperate stories, like the anniversary one and the child watching her father die, hit us in such similar ways? Obviously the second one is much more wrenching, its the kind of story you want to think about when you had a shit day at work and you go, "Well at least I didn't watch my dad die today!"
But the first one somehow makes me just as sad.
I think because its all death. One is loud, bloody, external. The other wages the quietest wars inside the human vessel. But either way they both leave the world devoid of a soul...