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Standing on the shore, I watch the tide ebb. I’ll miss the water but I know it’ll return. Standing in the forest, I hear the birds go silent. I miss their songs but I know they’ll return. Day by day, I watch the sun and moon rise and fall. I miss each of them when they’re gone but I know they’ll return. But people are more unpredictable. It’s difficult to say this but sometimes people go away and don’t come back. I wish all people were the tide returning. I wish all people were bird songs returning. I wish all people were the sun and moon returning. So let’s praise those people who do come back. They might leave for minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years, but they return. We open the door and there they are— as beautiful as water, as enchanting as song, as embracing as moon, and as life-giving as sun.
Such a kind wave to ride toward shore. Thank you for the lift.
Mmmmmm: Yes. Deeply, yes. Felt this one in the gut. ‘They say if you love someone you’ve gotta let ‘em go, and if they return to you well then you’ll surely know.’ I can picture the water, the tide rising slowly. I can hear the low, mellow crashing of the waves at night. We have to let go of everything in life, don’t we? In little bits and pieces. Sometimes some of it--some of them--return.
Michael Mohr
‘Sincere American Writing’
https://michaelmohr.substack.com/