Just returned from my regular Sunday trip to Guelph. There's only 5 more to go. That's not a target, it's a diminishing pool.
The opportunity to share this time with my Daughter is a gift of time. We talk about everything, anything, invent words, listen to music. Lately it's been dance-pop, but I think we'll switch back to Wolfman Jack.
Just as I drove to Holland Landing every Sunday, or Brampton every weekday; that changed like a closing door, and the world was different.
There's things we all do everyday that we just assume will always go on, and then one day comes the end. People move to different corners of our lives, or disappear like a shining soap bubble.
We see the same coffee server or grocery clerk and depend on that touchstone until they change jobs, the store closes or they are hit by flying debris on the highway in one of the many random events that shape the world without regard.
We hug or kiss our most beloved and never know when that is the last lips we will ever touch. The open mouth sharing of vulnerability has a number, as something heads towards us in a world moving ever onward in a journey we will never understand.