What I would miss.
Sooner or later there’s a chore to be done by one of us. The chore of missing.
Most days we can neglect it. But always it waits. Sooner or later, one of us, you or me, will tend to it.
Today I saw myself — for just a bit — as that one. Tending to the chore of missing.
I took one imaginary step down that weary road. Only one. For now we still smell the same air, feel the same…