For Small Creatures Such as We

Every day, the number of books I have not read gnaws at me.

No matter what happens next, you were here. And even when any record of our individual lives is lost to the ages, that won’t detract from the fact that we were. We lived. We were part of the enormity. All the great and terrible parts of being alive, the shocking sublime beauty and heartbreak, the monotony, the interior thoughts, the shared pain and pleasure. It really happened. All of it. On this little world that orbits a yellow star out in the great vastness. And that alone is cause for celebration.

I hope we can still feel wonder. In those revelations and the ways the randomness, the chance, the chaos sometimes, somehow works out. Still magical. Still beautiful.