Something like a glorious sunset, there for a few stunning minutes, and then completely gone. The smell of coffee that fades too soon, or a laugh that disappears as quickly as it arrived. These temporary moments tend to have a magical feel that permanence can’t touch.
When we know something won’t last, we pay more attention. Like one, extraordinary day spent by Mrs B and I on our first visit to The Gambia. Our driver promised us a day to remember, when he turned up in a Mercedes. He didn’t let us down.
We drove for almost an hour along a narrow road, and then suddenly we turned left, not onto another road, but into a wooded area, surrounded by long grass and trees. We bumped along for a further few minutes, and then came to a clearing. We saw a lagoon, with an island in the middle. The edge of this lagoon was covered in crabs, so our driver lifted us up, over the crabs, and into a cut-out tree-boat that was waiting.
We were then rowed to the island, and taken to the “captain’s tent”, where we were offered, and accepted, green tea and cannabis joints. We were then taken for a tour, during which Mrs B was encouraged to hold a new born baby in one of the huts, while I was shown the women working the fields, cultivating the cannabis, and viewing the men sat outside their huts in rocking chairs, stoned out of their minds.
Following a joint-assisted cruise around the lagoon, we were taken back to our ferry. As we approached the ticket-collector on arrival at our destination, our driver, who we assumed had bought the tickets, turned round and shouted: “Run!”. We did. Fast enough not to get caught.
Maybe some things are just meant to be felt, once, deeply, and then vanish for ever. And maybe that’s what makes them unforgettable.
What’s wonderful but doesn’t last?
Love. In its unconditional shape.
I’ve experienced such magic three times in my life, with three different women. Each time it was more than wonderful, it was heaven. Of course, in all three cases, it had gone, after a while.
This is a no surprise, such things must pass, to be replaced by something less passionate, but more mature and stable.
In the first case, it was a married woman, seventeen years older than me. I was 23, and she was 40 at the time. We had a great romance, even travelled together to Cyprus back in the day. I was young, in love, unexperienced, and stupid enough to not understand that our romance had no future anyway. She broke up, returning to her husband, long before my passion time had ended. That was my first heart-breaking experience. Well, the thrill was gone. Yet, after that, I got the experience I needed to treat women.
The second story was when I was in my thirties, breaking up with my first wife, for a woman who I wanted badly, but soon enough realizing that she wasn’t the one I would have chosen a for a longer relationship. So, it was my turn to break up and return to my first wife. In the middle of a wonderful story, but I thought that those relations had no future.
Finally, we come to my current beloved wife, who is soon to divorce me. I’ve had years of a wonderful time that started to fade gradually. That was real happiness for me, but I didn’t realize that she would have expected more, of something different. I have always thought that she was the woman of my life. Well, I seem not to be her Mr. Big.
Now, I am coming through the most difficult time in my life, desperately trying to rectify matters but feeling that I will probably not achieve my goal to get her back.
Well, life is an open book and I really don’t know what stories I will write in it. It could be Renaissance, or something new exciting, or nothing.
I am at the crossroads. And, yes, that was wonderful… It had gone. Again.
What’s wonderful, but doesn’t last?
Of course, nothing lasts forever. The Pyramids will melt away and all good things must come to an end. Some moments are fleeting. But sometimes wonderful things come back.
Years ago, I lived in a little mountain town called Gatlinburg, Tennessee. It was nestled in a valley and surrounded by mountains, the tallest of which was called Mount Le Conte. That mountain spoke to my very soul. In the fall, the leaves would change and the mountain became a cascade of color. In the summer, blue skies held impossibly white clouds in the summer sun. Every day, it was completely different. Snow, rain, lush green; it was never the same. Each was wonderful but never lasted.
I have had dogs almost every day of my entire life. They become friends, a part of my family and I love them. They don’t last. And when they go away it’s not so wonderful. I have never lost a child but I can tell you how it feels.
Wonderful is a state of mind. I’m sure thousands of people looked at that stupid mountain every day. Looking, I mean really looking, at someone, can tell you far more about their state on mind than their words ever will. I’m constantly amazed at people who never LOOK. They never see. They don’t know.