when old buildings reach such a state of disrepair that the only option left is demolition. So many memories were made in this building, an old family grocery store, and now it's this:
I know a building is not the same as a human, but really, we're all getting to this point: Aching joints and sagging flesh on a octogenarian is similar to peeling paint and broken floors in a home.
And it's not like anything else will be built to replace in in this particular small town ... once it's gone, it will be another empty lot in a rapidly declining village.
•••
Why such a dark topic? I guess it's because I'm reminded most on cloudy and dank days, like today, of the bitterness of life. Oh, don't misunderstand - I love living and I'd definitely prefer it to the alternative, but the thing is, there is no real alternative. We're all dying, a little bit, every day. I can feel it, actually. Nothing major, but the slight aches that persist which wouldn't have bothered me a bit two years ago, they remind me that I'm getting older, not younger, and it's all one way from here.
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