Musing

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park


12C/53F (high 23C), overcast, leaves on trees hang motionless, waiting for the lift and tickle of a light breeze, traffic Sunday morning quiet

yesterday: hanging out, Heartland Café, the farmer’s market, the fish market (my kind of fishing is snagging the catch of the day with a credit card) - spicy sole (flounder) and Taber corn for dinner - daughter #2, Krista and her fella joined us for some laughs before they went out to paint the town; Gusta, over-loaded with attention, ice-cubes and ice cream, will have to be resume being content with me as her sole playing partner for a while

twists on phrasing, lyrics - songs and poems and gut-wrenching novels have been writ about tomorrow; they revolve around romantic notions, about hope, about sadness, about regret and mistakes of yesterday, about change and beginnings that all start tomorrow – of tomorrow’s promise, about tomorrows that come and the ones that don’t; tomorrow is about hope and joy, about longing and waiting

the future is tomorrow, but visiting tomorrow cannot happen until yesterday is gone, yesterday is gone but we always have tomorrow - time passes, seasons change, even butterflies need to go, to go away – to change summer wings for autumn ones, traveling about to meet people, places and experiences that deserve revisiting, even if it is for the first time – everyone needs time for reflection, to be clear, to flounder or look for the sole

tomorrow begins – perhaps the day after today or in three weeks or in thirty years, tomorrow belongs to today but not to yesterday because what has gone cannot hold out a hope for the promise of tomorrow; tomorrow, never really comes, because when that next day arrives, tomorrow is yet again one day away

as I write this, memories flow – a word, a tune, a time gone by – youthful exuberance given way to middle aged something else, wisdom meets reality; floating along feeling really great, feeling happy, feeling challenged and fulfilled - then it hits me – not that one expects to be knocked over by a butterfly, but it can happen

I’ve been given rare delicious glimpses of preciousness – but weekend time-out draws to a close, work resumes; playtime ends, routine takes over; for some it is time for vacations and play, for others it is a trip down memory lane far away

hope can yearn for tomorrow, but for tomorrow - off there in the distance - it will be a while, a while from now, a while from here, a while from yesterday . . in a while

Mark Kolke
341,588
198.0


What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.

To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca

©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.