Sometimes I think of moments not long ago, and mourn even the littlest things. The particular shade of the previous night’s sunset. The way my friend smiled. The feeling of cold wind on my face as I walk. The color of a lake from high up. The texture of the moss that grew on the tree that was taken down. Small things that I never even thought of, that I can never return to. It’s a haunting sadness, knowing that every moment is the only one that will ever be just like it, yet somehow forgetting until after the best moments have passed to commit the details to memory.

















