What will motivate somebody to push on, to hang on, to keep on wanting to live?
Is it hunger?
Is it the yearning to relive the beauty of the past? Or wanting to admire the beauties that are sure to come again?
The stroke of a soft cat's fur. The vibrations of its purring on our lap. Its adoring look when the belly is full.
The cold seems to have settled in our part of the country, although the weatherman it is going to be nice again later this week. Has anybody told the hummingbird that seems to have left for the season?
One by one, the Monarchs have flown towards the sun, barely taking time to feed on the Jerusalem artichoke, almost unable to fly over the treetops. But somehow, they make it. Their species make it. Barely, anyway.
Some Maples are already turning orange, the Barberries are turning red, leaves are already blowing in the wind. The days are getting shorter, the sun is getting lower in the sky. And as sure as the sun rises from the East, the Asters in their lilac shades are back. Different smells are on the wind. Summer is too short.
Life is too short to waste. Grab every minute and cherish it with all your might. It will never come back again.
No comments:
Post a Comment