If I wasn’t so blasted sentimental, life, with all its firsts and lasts, would be easier for me. But I am, so it’s not and there it is.
We feelers, I think, suffer a little extra. Those lasts? We feel ’em. Speaking personally, they remind me of how quickly time’s passing and how fast the children are growing up. We only get to do this once. Life comes, then goes in the blink of an eye. But the joys? We feel those, too. The pain of lasts is offset by the joy of firsts.
Joy and sorrow. Happiness and pain, major chords and minor in your symphony and mine. We only sing this song once. We’ll not pass through here again. Let’s sing it — and live it — well.
Rhonda Schrock’s e-mail address is firstname.lastname@example.org.