Every time the first snow falls, I am reminded of why I hate it. It’s not the cold, or the wetness; the shoveling, or loss of traction. No. I hate it because it reminds me of a similar stark environment with a climate drastically different than a north-eastern winter. A climate full of dust, decay, and ruin. The Middle East. Iraq.
I found out I would be visiting Iraq before I turned 19. I turned 21 in a country I wasn’t born in. I couldn’t enjoy the occasion. In the time since I’ve been back home, rescued from the most memorable part of my life, I’ve seen children turn 21; still children, but able to legally consume alcohol. They still wonder what they should do with the rest of their lives. I was a child, once.
In my childhood, I had a puppy whom I loved dearly. He is gone now. I have a service dog, Toby. He will be gone one day, and I will miss him dearly. Animals come and go; like people; like most things.
We build ourselves upon finite memories. Thus, they have the capacity to become infinite. We pass them on before we die in order to preserve their infinity. Pain is temporary, but can last forever. Love can last forever, or end abruptly. As with my random ramblings…