There are some days, more so now than before, when you can lose yourself in the memories of times past. If you do it just right, you can close your eyes and go through the motions of your usual daily routine almost without thinking.
It's the point when your life has become a book, and the present is more like the end of the story when the author has run out of ideas or room to take the plot further. You are the author reading back and looking for new ideas, new twists, somewhere to go next because you haven't even made the minimum word count. This will be graded, I am my own worst critic. Answer this, is it the end of the line, or the interlude between the end of one journey and the beginning of another? Are you Christopher Columbus at the conclusion of voyage one, or are you facing the impending twilight with the memories as the only thing you can take with you?
I like to think of this as a brief respite from the action before the next adventure begins. I don't know where, when or how but it has to come. The options with their resulting variables and consequences have begun to be weighed and measured. The initial decision is in the hands of fate, once the gavel comes down, the new path must be chosen.
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