If our lives became too long, would it add to our regret?

Have I lived long enough? Is there something else besides being a father that really matters? The world is too big. The distances too great. Too many people. Not enough love. Not enough humanity. Or nature, natural places and ways of living. Too much is constructed. Madrid is finished. My mom has left after 8 weeks of family, façade. I’m sad. We held each other and cried. Said goodbye. Then I made a long, lonely trip home.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: