|All that's left|
This photo originally shared on Instagram
They represent an ending, a physical closing off of the day before it slips into history, a final act of defiant light at the very edge of all we can see, before the darkness takes over.
And while one can argue the sun will rise a few hours from now, and will indeed set yet again a few more hours thereafter, it isn't the same.
It'll be a different day, with a different sky. Different people may be on the ground to witness it. Even if you're blessed enough to be in the same spot tomorrow, it won't feel the same. Yesterday was unique, as is every day. The next day doesn't replace the previous one.
Indeed, not everyone is given another day. Another sunset. Another moment to drink it in. Eventually they run out for us all.
Which largely explains why I keep returning to the west-facing window of my late father-in-law's apartment. Because even when I find another west-facing perch, it won't be this one. In this place. At this time.
Places, moments, people, they all disappear eventually. Are we doing enough to hold onto them before they slip, once and for all, out of sight?
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