spokedust

The second half of a man's life is made up of nothing but the habits he has acquired during the first half.
- Fyodor Dostoevsky

Bagged buttered popcorn brings me back to dark cold starry evenings spent in bright sweaty gyms in the midwest. Thumping noises of feet and balls as the "hoosier" throng rises and falls with the tenor of the game. 20 years later, my fingers are salty slippery while I listen to the rise & fall of interest in the strategy discussion for 2006. My mind is still thinking about faces and friends in another place far away. Somehow between time differences and necessary tasks of the day, I miss them. those people I grew up with far away. As our tree branches grow, we're now farther apart and wave occasionally to each other in the winds of life. One day our tree will die and the wood will be rejoined together in a beautiful new creation by the master carpenter

posted by bikenomad @ 2:36 PM