Today was special. I was treated to breakfast out by two dear friends. Afterward, we drove by our first home in Reno, where we moved in 1978. Reno has changed and grown, as has the locale where we used to live.
Going back in time is interesting. Nothing remains the same. Our home has been rebuilt, trees have grown, and nothing besides the land appears unchanged. When you think about it, that’s life. Like all things that humans do, our lives continuously evolve, and there is no going back. Grasping and accepting that all things change is what we must do.
I must accept Lenette’s not being with me. I must accept the changes I witnessed that day and every day. I must accept that I am 97, and my time has grown short. Still, I remain grateful that my mind embraces creativity and my memory remains sharp. For how much longer, I cannot know. In that regard, I think my daily writing plays an important role. Working on poetry, my memoirs, and essays on leadership and dialogue are valuable exercises, as are my biking and stretching.
So, living in the present is what I do. And I fill it with routine. Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is not yet mine. Death is not an issue for me. Whether it comes today or two years from now, it’s all the same, and I’m good with this.
Breakfast with friends—a wonderful way to begin the day.
The food was good but not equal to our time together and what we say.
We listen to each other—we enjoy the talk.
The food is incidental, never equal to even a walk.
Being together is what our breakfast is about.
It’s not the food we eat but that we are together there is no doubt.
That my friends give me time and this kind of thing.
Is an act of love, and to me, a song they sing.
I am blessed being with them for sure.
I miss Lenette, being alone, having breakfast with friends a temporary cure.