The Rich Vegetarian

An Examined Life

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Tag: life (page 1 of 4)

No Trace

You land a new job, move into a new life,
Set up shop, bring your things in (a few or many),
Meet the neighbors, make new connections, strike up conversation.

Go out for coffee, set up introductory lunches… create a new life in here.

And so it continues on, through vacations and holiday parties and babies and advancing grays and deaths, and so on.

Then one day, it’s time to move on. “So quick? I am sorry, yes. There is no requirement any more. Here is a box.”

And thus it ends.

Pack all that you have gathered into a cardboard box
No time to linger or dawdle, certainly no time for farewells and goodbyes.

Get out quick, and the waters close over your head… as if you never existed.

The coffees and conversations begin to vanish into distant memory, irrelevance, obscurity.

Characters lose definition, quirks and edges.

And that’s really all a life within a life is worth, a person in an organization amounts to.

“And the friendships and connections and shared memories and good work and inside jokes and… what of it all?”

“Nothing, really.”

A matter of happenstance and shared time, so collect your winnings and move on.

Leave no trace behind.

A Time for Change

‘Tis a time for change and possible upheaval,
tears and bitter laughter and resignation.
“It’s only a job,” oh, it never is
Or maybe it is ONLY a job,
And then you feel guilty because you are fretting over a job?

Is that a first world issue? No, everyone needs a job.
And I do as well.

And this is all about fitting in and standing out
And driving far and striking out
And feeling old and looking young
And saying NO
choosing YES

It’s about living days in suspended excitement-fear-anticipation.

What if?
Is it possible?
Is this an escape?

Until I can finally say, “I am leaving, thanks very much.”

My Love

My love, he refuses to wear a dark sweater as he goes to work in the yard;
He is stubborn, I know.

He will not listen to anyone, not even me.

My love has ideas of his own, some that he shares, and many that remain afloat in his imagination,

My love is secretive and dynamic,
He thinks a great deal, frets a lot,
My love is often doing things on his own,
He seems quiet and content
I see him not much, hear him very little, sometimes.

He speaks to me, I speak to him

We have eyes only for each other.

But we are like twin boats, floating in an endless expanse, tied and tethered to each other, a little, just that much,
so we don’t float off into oblivion,
out of each other’s sight.

He is charting his own path,
I am dreaming of mine.

I think we will keep each other in sight.

But he consults no one about his plans, not even me.

I do the same,

and so on we continue,

into the 20th year of our floating together.