Epilogue

So much living packed into so short a time.

There have been dry times in my life, that have only produced a memory or two worth reliving.

And there was THAT time in my life, that seemed to produce a memory a minute. Ironic, I suppose, that a time so unproductive in terms of the material, in terms of goals, was the time in my life I lived the most.

We lived deeply. All of us.

In the end, I've realized, that that's what matters.

No one's going to care, least of all me, how much money I made or saved,

or whether I finished college, or kept up my car insurance and maintenance,

or raked the yard or trimmed the bushes.

What will matter is the memories I made, for myself, the ones made for and for others, and memories are not consciously made.

What matters is the feeling I had watching Raven grow, laughing with coworkers, or talking with my folk…my mostly hand-chosen, precious family, the ones I feel a tender smile for as I look through photographs and memories.

I've realized life comes once.

What happens if on the day we die, we stand in judge…