Every now and then.

Every now and then I feel myself stop to take note. I see, smell, taste, and feel the details of the moment and realize that ever single part of my existence is truly beautiful. Even as I pass through places and spaces where other beautiful moments happened and I feel the familiar ache of nostalgia, I hear a voice tell me just how incredibly lucky I am to have ever experienced a moment or series of moments that unique and intense. I can sense the ghosts of memories not my own alongside those of my recent past and see that existence is what we make of it. It is one option to dwell on what was, what no longer is, and what may never be, and then an entirely different option to feel extremely grateful for the opportunity to ever live those moments of what was, knowing that those moments no longer are and may never be ever again. And to be content with that transitory nature of everything and every place and everyone is all I can ever try to do in order to avoid an otherwise memory-laden path to self-pity and sadness. I guess what I'm saying is: I choose to be grateful and in doing so, I choose to be happy.