All That Remains
Standing in what is now the front yard, protruding a meager nineteen centimeters above the earth, is a simple gas line connector―the sole remnant of a home that once stood on this exact location.
In March of 1992, the natural gas pumping station up the street exploded, sending out a massive fireball that propagated down the line and destroyed or severely damaged several of the homes in the neighborhood. The house that once stood here was among the casualties. Five people were injured, some requiring hospitalization, but fortunately there were no fatalities. Unfortunately, their homes were not so lucky.
This spot, which was once a home full of memories, has been relegated to a small hazard I cautiously avoid with the lawnmower, lest I accidentally experience a similar fate.
All too often, each of us gets so wrapped up in trivial (read: unimportant) matters of day-to-day existence, that we forget to stop and appreciate the things that we have. The old adage "You never know what you have...until it's gone" rings with so much truth it's nearly deafening.
In our modern world, it is hard to avoid the negativity that seems to permeate the very air we breathe. Whether it's the current newscycle, traffic, kids acting up, cat vomiting on the freshly vacuumed carpet (I'm looking at you, Knyght), or the air conditioner going out on a hot day, it is easy to get trapped in a perpetual cycle of negativity. For those of us who often experience depression or anxiety, this can be even worse.
After that disaster so many decades ago, a new home was eventually placed on the property (several yards away from the gas line and utilizing electric heating), and I currently call it home. I try to make it a point each and every day to be thankful for what Life has given me, because it can all literally disappear in a flash. Some of you already have experience with this, and my heart goes out to you.
We are here for such a brief moment in the Cosmic scale of things. Some might consider this reason enough to be grumpy about their existence, but I find it reason to celebrate. My moment may be simply a brief flash in the eyes of the Universe, but it's my flash.
May it (and yours) burn ever bright.
(The source article about the accident can be found by clicking here.)
In March of 1992, the natural gas pumping station up the street exploded, sending out a massive fireball that propagated down the line and destroyed or severely damaged several of the homes in the neighborhood. The house that once stood here was among the casualties. Five people were injured, some requiring hospitalization, but fortunately there were no fatalities. Unfortunately, their homes were not so lucky.
This spot, which was once a home full of memories, has been relegated to a small hazard I cautiously avoid with the lawnmower, lest I accidentally experience a similar fate.
All too often, each of us gets so wrapped up in trivial (read: unimportant) matters of day-to-day existence, that we forget to stop and appreciate the things that we have. The old adage "You never know what you have...until it's gone" rings with so much truth it's nearly deafening.
In our modern world, it is hard to avoid the negativity that seems to permeate the very air we breathe. Whether it's the current newscycle, traffic, kids acting up, cat vomiting on the freshly vacuumed carpet (I'm looking at you, Knyght), or the air conditioner going out on a hot day, it is easy to get trapped in a perpetual cycle of negativity. For those of us who often experience depression or anxiety, this can be even worse.
After that disaster so many decades ago, a new home was eventually placed on the property (several yards away from the gas line and utilizing electric heating), and I currently call it home. I try to make it a point each and every day to be thankful for what Life has given me, because it can all literally disappear in a flash. Some of you already have experience with this, and my heart goes out to you.
We are here for such a brief moment in the Cosmic scale of things. Some might consider this reason enough to be grumpy about their existence, but I find it reason to celebrate. My moment may be simply a brief flash in the eyes of the Universe, but it's my flash.
May it (and yours) burn ever bright.
(The source article about the accident can be found by clicking here.)
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