I try to remember life without him and it's like trying to remember an old film I thought I'd seen but perhaps never did.  I ask him if he's sorry we didn't find each other when we were young, and he says he would never have recognized me when he was young.  And besides, he was too old when he was young, he says.

A thousand days.  A minute.  A flash.  Just like life I think.  I hear her whisper: Take my hand and grow young with me; don't rush, don't sleep; be a beginner; weave pearls in your hair; grow potatoes; light the candles; keep the fire; dare to love someone; tell yourself the truth; stay inside the rapture.

Too often it is we who won't let life be simple.  Why must we squeeze it and bite it and slam it against what we've convinced ourselves are our great powers of reason?  We violate the innocence of things in the name of rationality so we can wander about, uninterrupted, in our search for passion and sentiment.  Let the inexplicable sit sacred.