I had wine and conversation with a good friend last night.  He is older, served in Vietnam as a combat photographer.  

The taliban, a world and decades away from Vietnam over ran Kabul two days ago.  So our conversation may have have been prompted by this because the parallels are all too familiar.

Our conversation did not devolve into drunken reminiscing of war stories, his war stories (for I have none to share nor wish to).  But it did touch upon the endless repetition of wars this country has seen, initiated and those brought upon it.

To this day the memories of combat are crystal clear.  Sometimes, when you are a good friend, you learn to just shut the fuck up and listen.  That is what I did.  Took me long enough I guess. 

I have memories like this.  Crystal clear.  From fire fighting days, medical calls in the field. Horrific scenes etched into times frozen memory that clutches and claws at you at the most inopportune times! How inconvenient suffering can be at times.  

Yet again and again, I also have these moments but of my lovers touch and kiss,  Haleys comet in the Fijian South Pacific skies in 1986 as I lay on the deck of a boat crossing the midnight sea.  I watched Haley's Comet all night . . . and I wondered who will be watching it when it circles back to us again in 2061?  I may be alive against the odds.  If I am alive I will gaze toward the heavens in wonderment, awe but most of all gratefulness.

Grateful for being alive every day, to have had the love of my life with Victoria Wright and the peace and deep intense satisfaction she brings to living, for the friendship of my friend and his wine and all the friends I have scattered around this lovely warming planet.