The smell of burnt bacon, smoke filling the apartment, an egg in the pan, coffee dripping into the pot. A standard Saturday morning in my old apartment. Stuff that I can’t enjoy as much now that I don’t live alone. I can’t say I mind the smoky haze from burning something on the stove (as long as it doesn’t set off the alarm). It grants the morning an essence of etherealness usually only found in early morning hikes in the forest.
It’s almost a reminder of our own fleeting place here on earth. We’re here to enjoy what we can, try to make an impact, and move on to whatever happens after. I suppose that’s kind of a bummer way to look at things, but I like it. It’s easier for those of us with faith that there is an After, naturally, but I think it can work for anyone. The old song Dust In The Wind, and all of Ecclesiastes often are labeled as depressing and sad for the same reason, but I’ve never really looked at them that way.
Knowing that our time is limited means we have all the more reason to live it up. Wring every life-soaked moment out of our time here and drink it up to high heaven. We only get one shot to make it count, and like a smoky room, eventually we’ll settle and the magic will be over, moving on to the next thing.