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I have discovered something.
The older one becomes, the more one realizes life is not forever.
Eighteen takes forever to arrive and the years after that much ballyhooed milestone flash by in a blur!
Leaving the eighteen year old mind to ponder the rather decrepit condition of the body in which it lives.
What happened and when did it happen and where was I when it happened?
In startled realization the eighteen year old mind begins to mull over the undeniable recompense of having been born.
Life ends, sometimes not with a bang but with a whimper or maybe with a sigh or a slight whisper of regret.
What will remain?
When that day of reckoning comes, what will remain to say to the world (or at least my world) that Donna was here?
The Bible reminds us that life is like a vapor, you know, like the steam from a tea kettle that dissipates as soon as the flame underneath it is extinguished.
What will remain behind to say, “There once lived a woman named Donna?”
Kind of sounds like the beginning to a really bad limerick, doesn’t it?
But, really, what will remain?
It’s a little late to become a mogul or a tycoon or even a thousandnaire, so material goods are out!
Material goods of any great value, I mean.
What will remain?
Three daughters whose sharp wits outpace mine but whose humor is reflected in my own?
Grandchildren who will remember me as Granny without the “r,” the woman who always asked the typical old folks question, “How is school?”
Life inspired words splattered across virtual pages released to searching eyes in hopefully exotic places?
Memories of yesterday cocooned in the hearts of those left behind to remember and laugh and cry and cherish?
Now, that is the real question, isn’t it?
Really, what will remain?