I love experiencing something that I forgot I missed. Like the smell of the ocean, the call of seabirds, and standing in the picking rain while I drift. I call them triggers when they happen. Triggers that I’m not living my life the way I was meant to. Reminders that there are pieces of me that need replenishing. – Ash
Actual Trestle Bridge from Google – no copyright infringement intended
no idea where I was going where my footsteps were taking me not long off the bus and my bags still hanging off the borrowed bed I’m running toward something my faith in a girl next door relationship built on the stock of only a few summers we were school break friends and I just had to see this according to everyone and everyone was going to be there that was the promise and with a pinky swear I was a nervous boy in a foreign land on loan from thirteen-year-old best buds speaking only the language of the shy and quiet ones making what would become a beautiful memory under the bright big moon along the sparkle-kissed river surrounded by the sounds of the teenage on a warm night in August by the trestle bridge
You are a flower a flower long picked from the garden home with just today as a reminder of when you began to grow seasons pass and nothing else seems to want to flourish anymore your bloom was what kept these old roots alive now, the rain never comes backs the sun only hurts the moon listens, but that’s all the wind is gone before I know it not one thing about life is life in this garden home without a little flower
We should not worry about how long we will live? But, rather, how do we live? Quantity of life is a one-time blessing. It’s the quality of life that provides forever bliss. – Ash