Everyday, I take the hellion out to pee and play ball. It hit me today that the trees have been stripped bare of leaves. The birds’ nests under the porch, however, remained intact.
It got me thinking about how some things endure while others disappear. Which begs the question: what renders some immortal and others forgotten?
Our deck was built by a family friend, who died a few years ago. The porch lives on as a testament to his existence. One of the many things he built before he died.
Look at antiques crafted hundreds of years ago. We prize them. They remain here because of their craftsman’s work.
Great architectural marvels–St. Pat’s Church–are the amalgamation of many lives. We may forgot the person’s name, but a piece of him remains with that building.
For some people, their children and grandchildren render them immortal. They live on inside their family’s memories and a spark of them appears in each generation.
For me, it is my writing. It will exist for years to come. My mark on the world, proclaiming I was here long after I’m returned to dust.
What renders you immortal? What will remain of you after you are gone?