Salt River
“What he's thinking is, I'll never be able to tell Gladys how much I loved her, now I won't even get to try. What do you say?" "I'm there?" "For the benefit of the exercise, you are." "I'm not your student anymore, Cy." "Habit. So tell me: What do you, as a trained professional, say?" "I say . . . " I began, and foundered.
"Exactly. You don't say anything. You listen." Cy got up to leave. "And that's the most important thing I can ever tell you. A small, simple thing—like most great secrets.... You just listen." Strange how, as we age, our lives turn to metaphor. Memories flood in often and with little provocation, to the point that everything starts to remind us of something else. We, our actions, our lives, become representational. We imagine that the world is deeper, richer; in fact, it is simply more abstract. We tell ourselves that now we pay attention only to what's important. But sadly, what's important turns out to be keeping our routine.
Much like the town back there behind us.MoreLess
"Exactly. You don't say anything. You listen." Cy got up to leave. "And that's the most important thing I can ever tell you. A small, simple thing—like most great secrets.... You just listen." Strange how, as we age, our lives turn to metaphor. Memories flood in often and with little provocation, to the point that everything starts to remind us of something else. We, our actions, our lives, become representational. We imagine that the world is deeper, richer; in fact, it is simply more abstract. We tell ourselves that now we pay attention only to what's important. But sadly, what's important turns out to be keeping our routine.
Much like the town back there behind us.MoreLess
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