My kids run in fields horses used to.

Be.           And Be there for each other.

El Dia

In an attempt to get rid of the junk I accidentally deleted my last voicemails from a friend who has passed. A spark of panic followed by frantic un-delete attempts followed by a downward cast head. Then I thought of the cloud and backups. I briefly tried the cloud but quickly retreated and let them go. I mourned the loss.

I say mourn because it felt/feels like that but I’m also getting how strange and perhaps silly this all is to feel the pang of digital loss. What a world the still living of us live in.

It reminded me of that time my AC/DC High Voltage audio-tape got pulled out of cassette and tangled and I could never get it rewound. Even in the analog realm there are these types of loss. Difference is I could always replace High Voltage, I can’t ever get those voicemails back.

I’m a nostalgic pack rat so I do have other notes/pictures/tangibles from this friend but there is something about a voice that is impossible to recreate. It is in fact a loss. I’m giving myself that grace.

All of our still living voices—> let’s listen extra hard to each other while we can.

This is who we have=become/are now.

Island Life(s).

I went looking for gold and found people. Or was I looking for people and struck gold? Either way.

I thought I was the one sharing but it’s my kid that brought me back to music.

Gratitude.