Disney: The Painful Parting

The end of vacation has always plunged me into sadness; sorrow like a heavy woolen veil shrouds my entire being, emptiness fills my soul.  Leaving has never been easy, returning to everyday life a challenge.  I wonder, always, if it was somehow my fault that time passed swiftly, that the hours slipped through our fingers so rapidly.  What, I question, could I have done differently to hold onto the minutes, the moments so saturated with fun and excitement.  Sometimes it seems the harder I try to hold on to an experience, pin it down in time, the more fragile it becomes, crumbling in my grasp until it is ash and I watch as the wind carries it away.  Perhaps that is why I feel compelled to write, a deliberate act of remembering. Putting pen to paper conjures up the past, images I long to hold, moments too precious to let go are written down to be revisited.  Memory alone is sketchy, unreliable and far too intangible.  Words, however, engraved on paper, are concrete, substantial, something to which you can anchor yourself when feeling sorrowful or lost. I write so that the past is preserved; happiness restored.