On Being A Misser

Often, we miss things.

More importantly, we tend to miss the things the people pass on to us to nurture. Usually, we miss the items that spawn as intimate gifts from loved ones that in turn create a newness to our lives and the things in it. If I may be so bold, we graciously and often miss the things that we’re allowed to steal from others–even without the owners even knowing at times.

I’m a terrible misser.

For one, I’m a messy optimist and I’ve always believed that no matter what happens, we’ll meet again in some capacity. I’ve always felt that even in the afterlife, there will be a moment where I’ll recognize your smile, walk, gaze, or love from within a crowded room of other lost souls. If I’m lucky enough, we’ll stumble into each other as we loosely trek across the galaxies in search of a further meaning of life. Or, if I’m really, really lucky, I’ll fall asleep and slowly, and without notice and very cautiously–because of all the galaxy searching of course–you’ll just appear next to me when I wake up.

Oh well…a guy can dream right?

But seriously, I do enjoy missing things and the things that I’m often afforded to love through the many layers of people who love me. I’m often amazed in how I respond because when the day’s over, I can only sit and allow the past moments of the day to once again linger inside of me until I’m ready to accept the end of one part of the day and the beginning of another.

So, what I have learned in life is to miss everything that enters into your space. We’re only guaranteed the few moments to make that decision until the next chance appears present and willing to take you on another journey.

M.C. Davis

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