Sunday, February 10, 2013

First Cup—The Sunday Oregonian













The Sunday Oregonian
February 10,2013

One day, someone will sit, as I sit this day, reading
my obituary. Surprised, perhaps; saddened, perhaps;
triggered memories, perhaps—and wonder, as I wonder,
about the time left. Will wonder about the purpose
of life—specifically, his. Will hear the geese overhead
and wonder how many more mornings he’ll have to
hear such sound. Will sit watching the second hand
sweep around and consider counting seconds forward—
of course, a futile act of no consequence other than to suggest
the passing of time and the finitude of life, even as he
reaches for one last sip of coffee that grows cool in
a mug that also holds memories of other times and
persons. Pleasant. One day, someone will sit, as I sit,
on a Sunday morning, The Sunday Oregonian in hand,
wondering about the sweet and bitter shortness of his life,
and take a brief, deep breath—heavy sigh—and
smile.

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