Water's Edge

I witnessed something special today. It is hard to articulate, so bear with me. You’ve seen the movie in which the aged man, knowing his days are few, stares out across the waters into his distant past. A past now strangely alive with eerie childhood sing-song and chatter, the smells of grandmother’s house, and the mist-draped images of loved ones lingering just beyond the reach of recollection. In that moment of otherworldly perception, he stands on the precipice of eternity itself, no longer bound by pain, dementia, and poverty.
I ran beside my teenage son and watched in wonder as the sun illuminated his tall, strong frame. The auburn hues of his full, shaggy mane glinted in the long rays of light. His laughter filled my ears, interspersed with ever-streaming adolescent nonsense and the fall of agile footsteps in fast cadence on pavement. The moment was surreal and appropriately marked by gooseflesh, just as it is now, writing these words.
Today, I stood on the precipice of eternity, forever changed by the specter of future recollection. For a moment, a rare gift was offered and I pulled it close. Like the aged man at water’s edge.