The wheels on the bus

My body is a temple, I’ve heard that said before, but I’ve always thought of my body as a machine, a fragile machine, which can endure some hardship, and if treated well and maintained properly will endure further for longer, this isn’t altogether true, but it’s close enough for the analogy.

The mind is not so simple, some scars remain forever, some fondness too, while other details which in their time seemed so important are erased forever. Is it the curse of having a mind which can appreciate beauty that it should forget the very thing it came to love, or is it a blessing that a mind which was hurt so badly is able to heal, forget and continue.

Today would have been a day, a normal day in the running of all days but a year ago I deemed it to be a celebration, and I find myself today wishing I hadn’t because the doing so immortalised it in my mind, a mind which returns to reopen past scars and packs them with fondness so that they may never heal again.

So I suppose it’s time to say something festive…

Eat cake, because without it all we would have was bread, and what sort of a life is a life with only bread as a companion.

Merry Christmas.