Common Things

They surround us with a stale familiarity so undisguised, we may as well be blind. Yet they fill the storeroom of our experiences that add and continue to add to our consciousness of who we are, where we’ve been, what we’ve done. Beneath a pile of years memories attach that once filled our childhood and growing years. Like knowledge, we draw from them. They are the fallen stones in our life’s wall; they need to be put back to keep the wall intact, strong, useful and complete. Memory is a bridge always shrinking above rushing currents of time. The past, is an accumulation of tenuous memories no more substantial than afternoon shadows.