You Count The Hours You Could Have

And In That Line Now Was A Whiskered Old Man, With A Linen Cap And A Crooked Nose, Who Waited In A Place Called The Stardust Band Shell To Share His Part Of The Secret Of Heaven: That Each Affects The Other And The Other Affects The Next, And The World Is Full Of Stories, But The Stories Are All One.

By Now, The Morning Sun Was Just Over The Horizon And It Came At Me Like A Sidearm Pitch Between The Houses Of My Old Neighborhood. I Shielded My Eyes. This Being Early October, There Were Already Piles Of Leaves Pushed Against The Curb—more Leaves Than I Remembered From My Autumns Here—andless Open Space In The Sky. I Think What You Notice Most When You Haven’t Been Home In A While Is How Much The Trees Have Grown Around Your Memories.

You Are Not Your Past.

Mortality Means You Don't Have Forever To Work Things Out. You Can Live Your Life Unexamined But Then On The Last Day You're Going To Think: 'i've Left Things A Little Late.

You Have One Family, Charley. For Good Or Bad. You Have One Family. You Can’t Trade Them In. You Can’t Lie To Them. You Can’t Run Two At Once, Substituting Back And Forth. “sticking With Your Family Is What Makes It A Family.