People are always throwing trash out of their passing cars. It’s hard to believe, in this day and age,that anyone could be that rude, that careless of the environment. Especially around here, where nature is in charge.
We live among the trees and flowing rivers. We need to respect our environment. Take care of it. Which doesn’t include throwing junk out of moving cars.
Each time I go to the mailbox, there’s garbage strewn about. Fast food wrappers, discarded junk mail. The detritus of modern living. I try not to get unnecessarily angry because there’s nothing I can do except reach down, carefully, and pick it up. Stuff it in the bag I carry with me because there’s always something.
That afternoon, it was foggy. Really foggy. We get mist in the morning around here, but rarely do we got a thick fog for more than a few minutes. This one had started with a morning mist, but become quite dense by mid-afternoon.
Everything is ephemeral. Anything pictured today, anything you capture with your camera, is forever frozen in time. Even if change is minimal and even though it may seem invisible, nothing remains the same.
I picked up the paper. I read it. I shook my head in disbelief. Pondered what it meant. Then, I began to laugh. Stuffed it in the trash bag with everything else.
Whatever it meant, I would never know. I didn’t learn Sanskrit in school.
I tossed the bag into the big bin on my way down the driveway. There was no “going back.” The moment was gone, forever out of reach.