Today in a roomful of strangers, with lights dimmed out, I connected the dots. The missing link of a question that has been gnawing at me ever since. The proposition that not everyone you meet in life is going to be the one relevant. It is perhaps simplistic, to say that there would be some who would rather spend their lives with irrelevance. What if today I question as to how many would really know me? If I had to write a phrase for my eulogy, what would it say? Would my tombstone just rather read, "In search of the elusive concept of happiness" or would it be in celebration of an existence well lived, paths well trodden, touches well felt. How many would know of your, "one that got away". Impact and stories are often intertwined like tireless attempts at shaping an outcome. For a lover of wordplay and allegory, meaning often bursts forth in the most unexpected corners. In the midst of a work session, in the arms of an abject stranger or intoxicated among the group of lost friends who swore by each other, once upon a time. And if you're fortunate meaning dwells in dropped phrases, stories reside in echo chambers.
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