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
today, the air was different I paid attention to the seabirds watched the tide go all the way out to my left, a boat hummed away from the harbour to my right, lost sheep chew green grass into yellow a car passes by and the people wave while Jack the black cat sits still on a picket fence and Patti, the old neighbour strokes the last drop of paint …against his saltbox home I am shaken by something I can’t understand an algorithm of existing in a moment of my life seeing clear because that life stopped me in my tracks pushed my breath straight to my lungs grew my heart for the love of living filled me with the longing for more I know now that there is something more to every day my heart was smothered and my soul blinded until my spirit had enough and awakened
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