It’s fair enough to speak of perpetual mourning and mean it, and to wonder if keys were made for losing, but there is nothing of fairness, nothing deserved about finding at the end of any of these losses neither keys nor answers to any of the questions about where they went, but here this sudden hand, its open offering, the press of its continual pulse.
yeah … this one’s good 😉
Amaya. Thank you : )
Like injury time at the end of a soccer match, I think we should be credited back the time spent searching for cell phones, keys, wallets, and the meaning of life.
Well said, Jeff! Chuckling as I read this. : )