If Life Was Fair, I’d Be…

Suffering is the Cost of a Full Life

The view looking over the East River from Manhattan (near dusk). Photo and associated ponderings by author.

I once heard a bearded old man in a 12-step meeting share something in a deep-weathered voice that stuck to me like freshly chewed gum in matted hair.

There’s simply no way to forget it unless I cut out the part of my brain where it’s stored.