Timelessness

I have been reminded of the fragility of life all too often of late. How time seems to disappear in the blink of an eye and before you know it, age with all it’s wisdom but all of it’s drawbacks comes calling. But sometimes life knocks you down before you even get to that point and that to me is the harshest of blows. For someone to never have had the chance to grow old with the person that matters most to them.

To never get the chance to do all those things you kept putting off until tomorrow, then tomorrow never comes calling. Maybe it is this realisation that has spurred me on to write even more now. Like this fear of not knowing what lies ahead has given me the impetus to do what means more to me than anything else.

I’ve found myself asking the question, if this moment was all I had, if money was no object what would I want to be doing? Oh the usual cliche things obviously pop into my head, I would travel and see the world in all its beauty, watch the sunrise and the sunset, and obviously see all my family and friends tell them how much they mean to me, how every memory of our times together rests deep within me never forgotten but always cherished.

But with all this there is one other thing that lies deep within me, this need to write. I see myself writing wherever I may end up later in life, maybe at my desk in my library overlooking some beautiful clear blue ocean or the countryside that goes on for so many miles I could get lost just counting the fields. Maybe I will have to dictate every word because my hands just can’t do it anymore but still the need is there.

My dream is to write and be remembered, I guess it’s a fear I have that I am easily forgotten and maybe writing is my way of chasing away that fear, I don’t think anyone will forget such writers as Agatha Christie, Charles Dickens or the Bronte sisters to name but a few. So maybe, just maybe one day that could be me.

Writing is like a drug to me, it’s addictive but I can’t just write anything. I am not interested in writing endless articles. I have to write something good, something brilliant, something timeless.

The only answer to whether anything I write will be as such is time and I can’t help but smile at the irony in that.