The Last Man by the Window

There once was a time where we all gathered to eat, laugh, tell stories, and have stimulating conversation, but reality has gotten in the way of that.  Sometimes I feel like the captain watching from the bridge as his crew disembark the ship in its lifeboats as the sea slowly consumes his vessel, other times I feel like the man who comes home to find everyone has moved away.  It is difficult to feel good about change like this, but it is hardening to come to grips with the reality change imposes.  Perhaps I am the only one who saw the value of what we collectively had, but perhaps not; everyone has their way of hiding their grief.

I catch my self wondering if it were not for this place would we all be so close, logically I think not, for it is this place which molded us to whom we have come to enjoy, and tragically whom we might grow to long for.  True value is in community, it is the most valuable of commodities.  We kid ourselves by surrounding our lives with superfluous things which stand in for what we lack inside and for whom we lack inside.  A decade from now this place will be far in my past, but the place is clearly insignificant, the people who gathered there will be all that is left.