I found this coin during my end-of-year cleaning. It brought back memories of the adventures it took to get it and then rediscover it. Always good ones.
Because they happened the way they were meant to. Not right or wrong. Just the only way they could have been.
But this isn’t really about the coin. The coin is just a symbol, a relic from a chapter of my life—the only piece I still have. Finding it felt like unearthing treasure, something deeply valuable to me. Everything that came before it is wrapped up in it too: experiences and people.
Especially the people. All the ones who spent a little bit of their time with me. Minutes, hours, years. Some, even decades—3.6 decades, to be exact.
I’ve been sitting here alone for almost an hour, writing this and watching the day fade while the cicadas start to sing. Thinking about those people and those experiences. Taking time to think about them.
And even sitting here alone, it’s comforting to think of them—or rather, to think of you.
A piece of your wisdom is part of me now. Like shared wisdom, quantum, cosmic. It’s there.
And in some small way—or maybe a big one—I’m a part of you too. Not in the right way or the wrong way, but in the only way.
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