How quickly they disappear,
the footprints in the sand
along the edge of the ocean.
A clear trail of my walk,
there for a moment,
and then, as the next wave ripples in,
gone.
I thought the tracks might last for a while,
a little while, at least,
to show where I have walked on this earth,
where I left an imprint,
where I made a mark.
A moment,
only.
Is it a gift
to know how fleeting it is,
how fragile
the impact we think we have made?
It reminds me
to remember,
to focus on each step as I walk it,
to enjoy the feel of the wet sand under my feet,
and the warmth of early morning sun on my shoulders,
to enjoy the sight of the never-ending ocean
and the sound of wave-rhythm
punctuated by the far-off laughter of children
and sometimes
the voice
of someone who walks with me
along the way.
It reminds me to remember,
not to look back,
not to hope for permanence,
not to hope for a kind of immortality,
not to focus on where I may or may not
have left a trace.
It reminds me
to remember
to savor
the now.
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