I am in desperate need of a nap, for my past came flooding back to me unexpectedly last night and kept me up to the wee hours... thank goodness for late afternoon lattes, which are always ill advised and are sure to keep me up loooong past my bedtime (happy coincidence?).
It's good to be reminded at least once every 16 years or so that even tho I have no tangible evidence of my lives prior to now, someone SOMEWHERE remembers; that life years ago was more than just a few photographs in a box somewhere deep in the nasty basement, covered with spiders (a major deterrent to reminiscing...).
It's easy to pack up and move on, reinventing yourself every so often and putting time and space between the people you knew, who you were. But you can never fully distance yourself from who you are as a result of knowing them, and the absence will always register as a loss, a hole, unfinished business. It must violate too many laws of the universe to never see the people who helped form you, especially when they're still roaming the earth. How lucky it is that we're all still alive (most of us, anyway) and in a position to connect; but why can't it be easier?
Was there something about our generation, a restlessness perhaps, that kept us moving forward and rarely looking back?
Well, we're all long overdue.
I am so grateful that someone was finally able to make the connection, and a little sad for all the years lost, for all of us.
mon cher vieil ami, c'est pour vous :
and just to mix things up a bit, from the original era:
even tho this version is better (cause all things get better with age, n'est pas?):