Remember summer?
Something on the internet this evening gave me a flash of summer memory. The temperatures pleasantly in the 80s, the dappled sunlight through the backyard trees, sitting swaying in the hammock. I breathed it for a split second. This is what memory does. This is what is and is not the point of living. Living the moment means I have this memory to look at to feel. Looking at this memory, feeling it, means I am not living *this* moment. For a brief flash, it's wonderful. For extended periods of time, it becomes delusion. Let it be wonderful. Let me remember six months from now a flash of winter snow falling through bare trees, and a cold breeze vitalizing my breath.