‘there is beauty all around our paths, if but our watchful eyes can trace it midst familiar things, and see through their lowly guises.’
I have a book of happy quotes. It’s interesting, then, that it is half destroyed. I threw it at the wall in some fit of frustration. I know precisely which fit, it was followed closely by a shot of vodka, and hasty phone call that summoned a recently departed person back to me. It’s kind of funny now, but not really at the time, evidently.
It was one of those things where you can’t quite figure out a person. I still haven’t really figured him out, and thanks to our misshapen attempts at trying to establish boundaries on our friendship, the friendship now lies almost discarded. It makes me sad.
Timing, in relationships, is everything. It’s an obvious concept difficult to master, I’ve found. Like trying to carry a big box that’s just too wide to comfortably pick up and yet you struggle on, hoping to find the right angle until you drop it and break whatever fragile belonging resided inside.
There is happiness in familiarity, as the quote suggests. Happiness in the simple pleasures of coming home. There’s only anguish to be found in the unknown, the “what ifs”. Almost not worth thinking about.
The funny thing is, (if there is a funny side) that if we were to go back in time by some magical device, and play out the things we always look back on and wonder about, live out the ‘other side of the coin’, it would have most likely turned out quite ordinary, and quite temporary. It’s the not knowing, that makes it so much more dramatic.
It’s like JFK. My dear friend HS did a study about him and whether he is overrated because of his tragic death, whether his acts as President actually warrant the eternal American devotion. They do not. But again, we don’t know what could have been, what would have been different. It is the defining characteristic of the unknown, mystery; I guess we just need to have faith in our choices.