“When to the sessions of sweet, silent thought, I summon up remembrance of things past.” (Shakespeare)
I live in a small village, but the other day as I walked “downtown” (it used to be the center until strip malls and little malls entered the scene), I realized the passage of time and how the physical environment changes. The little post office is still there; for how long no one knows. The liquor store is gone and so is the thrift store which supplanted it. A floral shop has opened and across the street what once was the main inn between Philadelphia and due West is now a Mexican restaurant (and a good one at that). All things and people pass beneath the winter sun and hide their dying in the springing sun. It is the rule of life–everything changes. But like a girl in one of Yeats’ poems I sometimes cry out: “Let something remain.” But nothing lasts forever. It is in the acceptance of changes that I begin to learn what is really important and, who knows, what may last beyond the visible. We are literally awash in the unknown, and if we are still long enough to listen, we may catch a glimpse of that which survives even the greed of time sweeping everything away.