Living in my neighborhood, everyone has a pool. Sort of a silly notion considering I don’t think anyone uses their pool on a regular basis in the whole neighborhood so a community pool would be just as good, if not better. One of the few good things that comes from the pool is that every year, a duck couple comes and makes my pool their home. They leave at night, but during the day they come and wade in the water. The male and the female, always within touching distance. Always until today. Today, it was just the female, standing motionless on the divider of the pool and the Jacuzzi. It’s sad to think that someone could have killed her mate and for the rest of her life she’ll be alone.
Not too long ago, someone in my school was struck by a car and died. I never knew him. I never heard about him, and I don’t recall ever seeing him. I remember I saw a picture of him, after he died and wondered why so many people were posting a similar picture – The news hadn’t yet come to me. A lot of people were really sad, and not all of them even knew him. I wonder if sad is the right word. It’s probably fear. When something happens that takes someone’s life, everyone sort of realizes that they’re mortal. I guess mortality is kind of hard to deal with because it is kinda the thing that says, “You aren’t good enough.” And that’s pretty hard for people, especially famous people and kings and queens, because it’s so, typical. We spend our whole lives, thinking about death, but we can’t think of a way to stop it. We spend our whole lives knowing that one day, we won’t have the opportunity to do everything we ever wanted, but instead of going to make our lives count for the moment, we put it off.
This is a new theory of mine, and I haven’t been playing with it too much at all. But here it is: People live to dream, and dream to live, but in the end, it’s not living the dream.
We don’t try our dreams, not because we are scared of failure, but because we are scared that the dream will die, and if the dream dies, what are we living for. If we succeed, then it’s not a dream anymore, and then what is there to look forward to.
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times, but that’s just love. But now that she’s gone, there’s only time. I look back at the crash and I am thankful I survived. But I guess that’s the thing, to live doesn’t mean you’re alive. I walk through the house, the place I used to call home when she was alive, not even a shell of the man I once was for she had both my body and mind. I reach to touch her, but my hand falls through… So easily it reminds me of her life passed.