The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
— Derek Walcott, Love After Love

Life will change soon enough. It’s always changed, as we learn, as we also learn that some years bring more changes than others. Through it all, there is us. We are the main actor in our lifetime drama (or comedy, if you like), and we are the only one in the audience who sees the entirety of our acutely aware presence amongst the living. That ought to count for something.

I’m approaching a milestone with this blog, and it may be a great point to call this project done. At what point do you feel like you’ve said enough? At what point do you look for a new way beyond blogging to say what ought to be said?

The thing is, planning to savor all that we’ve done and have become is a fool’s game. We ought to feast on our life today, while there’s life to savor. Tomorrow is too late and always has been. Pour the wine, break the bread, let’s enjoy this time together now. Rest assured that there are a few more pages in this long love letter, if fate allows.