Moments — friendship

"Would you like another Manhattan?"

"Yes. Could you put less sweet vermouth and bitters in it"

"So you would like a glass of bourbon?"

"Yes."

The raft was much heavier then we thought, but not so heavy we couldn't get it into the water; the log we used to move it along helped. Discussions of water temperature, wind direction, water depth, and novel ideas to float the raft out to where it needed to be anchored took us there in only three attempts. With two of us in the water and two on the raft we ultimately attached the raft to the chain, and anchored it in place. 

With this success we celebrated the rest of our cottage weekend playing in the water as if we were young boys.

iamgpe

Moments — beauty

Hold on tight sweetie and pedal. Keep pedalling.

Don't let go.

Keep pedalling. 

Don't let go. I can't ride a bike. I can't ride a bike.

Keep pedalling. Just keep pedalling.

I can't ride a bike.

But honey you are riding.

My daughter looked back at me as the realization of what she was doing took hold, and then hit the curb. She, along with her bike, fell over — looking at me, started to cry.

Recently, sitting across the table from me, she talked about her summer, the final preparations for her trip out east, how work was going, and her thoughts on taking another photography class. We debated her favourite photograph — I started to smile.

iamgpe

Moments — dead and living

A short time ago I bumped into someone I had not seen for a while and he asked me what has been happening — it was one of those questions that invites the broadest of context. As I weaved a meandering reply I could not help but mention my sister's death, the death of two dear friends, the death of my mother, an uncle, a good friend's mother, and summed it all up with how an other uncle is coming to the end of his "fight with cancer".

There was an audible chuckle as I pointed out that I was a real ray of sunshine. I then went on to mention, "Life is for the livin'" — of late, it seems to be the season for this kind of conversation.

Life is for the livin'.

This has become my mantra when dealing with the dead — with great respect to the departed I find myself offering this up to anyone who will listen (including myself) and then move forward, sometimes (sadly) never to look back.

I am deliberate about dropping the "g" when I say it... not because I want to disguise a trite utterance of the obvious, but because I believe at these times the word needs to be used as a verb. A reminder that livin' is about action, progress, and embracing life to the fullest because it's so very finite — we will all know death soon enough.

And with that said, I need to trek Patagonia soon — after all, life is for the livin'. 

iamgpe

PS: I know I am taking some artistic liberty when I say "livin'" is not only an actual word, but is a verb. Why not though? Isn't that what life is for?