Misses
There are days where I miss time, places, people, paths I didn’t walk. Choices made, choices not made. Tempers, names, detritus I’ve left behind.
How can you miss a place in time? A person you weren’t, but could have been, had you the patience, the will, the courage? Can you miss a smell in the air, the earthy growing smell of wet earth, the gloss on the roads? Is it right to miss the newness everything once held, the possibility, the sheer ignorance and willfulness you once held?
How can you miss time, outside of the time you wasted, the time you lost, the time you didn’t notice.
May 4, 2007 at 9:21 am
i rarely ponder things that might have been, i don’t actually miss things i haven’t tried, or left behind. i think every choice i made led up to something good in the end, something i was supposed to become, even if they seemed to be wrong decisions at that time.
but i miss the clearness of view i had when i was a teenager. when i walk well-known paths in my old hometown i remember how i felt then, how i perceived the world so fresh and brittle like after a short and heavy spring rain, but i can’t see the world with those eyes any more. maybe this is what you mean by “the newness everything once held, the possibility, the sheer ignorance and willfulness you once held”.
May 4, 2007 at 9:47 am
it’s funny bine-as I wrote that line, I remembered one night as a teenager-I was 18 I think, and I was doing laundry at the laundromat, and it had rained, a spring rain that keeps the street moist long after. The streetlights echoed off the damp, and it was this glorious night-so full of potential-I wanted to run off right then, into my future.
I’ll never forget that night. I felt so simply pure.