Friday, December 23, 2016

Noticing Life's Fluidity in the Snow

As you know, I sent out a holiday letter again this year, my second time doing so. I wanted to give one to my neighbors, so rather than sending it through the mail I just wrote their first names on the envelope and then propped it up on the floor in my room—a reminder to drop it off when the holiday got nearer.

The days kept passing, and suddenly tonight I decided to run over and drop it off. It was snowing and not yet dark; about an inch of snow had already fallen. I made footprints in the light snow as I walked over.

First I went to their mailbox to see if they hadn't yet gotten that day's mail. It was empty, so I ran up to the house.

As I ran up the driveway, I noticed a pair of glasses on the ground in the snow, partially covered up by the falling flakes. I picked them up, dusted them off, and carried them with me to the front door.

I rang the doorbell. No answer. I left the glasses with the card on the front porch, and then called to let them know.

Had I delivered the card a little earlier or later, would someone have stepped on or ran over these glasses? As it continued to snow, you really couldn't see them there.

Or if my day had gone just a bit differently, perhaps I wouldn't have been looking downwards as I moved up the driveway.

Or, if I had delivered the card a day (or days) earlier, perhaps the sequence of events that followed would have resulted in the glasses not falling off into the driveway at all. Every tiny action affects so many others, whether we realize it or not.

Life is all so fluid, constantly changing.

This fact can be comforting and humbling, yet also frustrating and upsetting to think about—depending on your situation.
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