In a sea of swimming fish, lately, I’ve felt like a lobster.
A bottom feeder creeping, crawling, and clawing my way along. Devouring anything I could get my hands on. Just waiting to get picked, boiled, and broken. They say I’ve got about forty or fifty years; it should feel like I’ve won the lottery. Leaves me to question, Why it doesn’t?
I hope that last day will be admirable, though. In service of someone who’s never had the taste of lobster before. Isn’t that what we all wish for?
I can see her now. Hair blowing in the wind sitting beside the Atlantic…Read More