Nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.
I had interesting conversations with 2 people today. Just some small talk, really, since we were going to be stuck with each other for about an hour or so. Well, I thought that's what normal humans do when faced with such situations. Then, like most conversations you have (or at least I have) with people I don't really know, it somehow ends up becoming a session where we start to complain about something (misery sure likes company!). The weather was really really hot (FIRST BLOOD. boring, I know!) and that we work pretty long hours (so that easily drew a reaction, hey! see, I'm pretty good at this social thing).
It struck me, that both of them (actually they were bus drivers that I was assigned to follow) swelled with pride when they were describing their children and their achievements. You know, those drool-ey, pesky, noisy martians that grow up to rat-a-tat on their keyboards while you're trying to get some sleep at midnight typing silly things nobody bothers about, doing stupid dangerous things like cycling on roads, and turning across traffic without checking sufficiently to cause screeching of brakes, burning of rubber and scenes of your life flashing through your mind. I'd think they should talk about more important things! Like how many kms they cycle a week and the fastest downslope around.
Maybe I just have to learn to love more. After all, it says in the bible somewhere that we should love our neighbours. Not just the wonderful neighbours who give lifts to the bus stop, and the ones who give you a treat on your birthday even after moving out a decade ago, but everybody; people who I don't feel like caring about, people whom I'd never see again, people who I don't really have to talk to.
Perhaps the brutally practical side causes me to sometimes be unable to appreciate transience. And if I am unable to do something well, I'd be better off not doing it?
Dear God, please help me see that everything and everyone you've placed in my life is for a reason.
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