Quote

That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.

Ray Bradbury

Missing You

Absence.

We don’t often speak about absence.
About the people in our lives who aren’t physically present.

GP posted the following earlier tonight, and it resonated with me:
If my absence doesn’t affect your life, then my presence has no meaning in it.

It’s a striking thought, no?

People come into our lives all the time – friends, family, colleagues, peers, neighbors, acquaintances, and even strangers – all of these can make an impact, even in only the shortest instance of interaction.

Some of these people sick around¬†once they’ve arrived. They walk beside you and, even when their paths stray from yours, they’ll wander back eventually. Some are merely a blip in the long. winding adventure. Some we leave behind willingly, some simply drift away.

They say that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ but I think that, perhaps, absence makes one realize where the heart truly lies.

For it is when someone is absent, in that moment when you feel that ache of longing, that wish to see his eyes, to hear her voice, to feel a touch, to share a moment, that you truly know what someone means to you.

And this is the moment in which to reach out. To let that someone know the impact he has on your life. A text. A call. A letter. Something. Anything. This is the moment to show someone that she is important, that he matters, that she makes a difference in your life, that your existence is brightened by his presence.

How will they know, if we don’t tell them?