Frozen

There will be points in life when it is impossible to see the good in anything.



The falling snow -- once a symbol of playtime, beauty and innocence -- will mean cracked radiators, middle fingers and two hour commutes.




There will be buckets of rain for every beautiful sunset, a dozen tears for every smile and newspaper headlines that ache to the core.



There will be times -- entire seasons -- where every phone call will end in a sigh.




Times when you will plead for news to be untold.




There will be times when it becomes impossible to love or live as you should



times when the fear of everything prevents you from doing anything.




Oh, yes, there will be times.




Times like today when you think of everyone who has passed in this, the most deplorable of winters.




And you will think, hanging up the phone, of the terrifying news to come.



You will swallow, and swallow, the lump in your throat gathering into a whimper.




You will limp to your car in the morning, slave away the day and spend your nights wondering where the day -- where the time, where this life -- has gone.




You will obsess over what you cannot control. You will give into the meaninglessness of everything, marveling as the world seemingly drowns in alternating currents of vitriol and apathy.





You will see all that remains to be done -- everything you have failed to accomplish -- and you (like Buridan's ass) will do none of it.



You will starve. And you will wither.



You will sit painfully and idly by, immobilized by the future remembrance 0f inevitable loss.




And you will forget, as so many people do, that life goes on.



Whether or not you truly live it is up to you.


But the question remains: how do you focus on the now...




on the moment...




when in the end



there is so much to lose.