Time, like every other phase of life, passes by like a bird in flight. It moves so swiftly that it cannot be completely seen. One catches perhaps a glimpse of a "shadow passing" or a "reflection retreating" just ahead of your eye's movement; just beyond your range of vision.
Breasts sag, muscles shrink, great powers vanish into smaller powers. Change happens. Age happens.
And with age comes all its compensations: pain, regret, memory, and even perhaps anger. Joy is always left for the present -- it doesn't present itself as the "center of one's past" ever. Not sure why either. Most of our lives have tremendous joys.
Sometimes I long for the joys of the past I can no longer really clearly remember. What it was like to be loved by someone I loved. What it was like to feel fresh and new in a relationship. What it was like to kiss someone romantically in a small way, and let that "small way" become all the passion it could become. I miss that. Especially on a Monday!
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