Lynne bought me a pair of shoes for Xmas, Rockport’s. Very shmick, casuals, black with white stitching,  size 11. But they were tight across the midfoot. So. . .

I took them back . . .

No joy.

“Don’t have your size Sir. Don’t give refunds, not legally obliged to do so. Have a nice day!” So . . .

I went down-town. They did have the size . . . on sale at half price. So I came home with two pairs of shoes for the price of one, . . . and  two shoe boxes.  Which got me thinking . . .

A dear friend recently lost a brother to an aggressive malignancy. He was an ex Olympian and had died in Europe. After the funeral my friend returned with two shoe boxes containing his brothers precious things. Not sure what was in them. Medals I guess, maybe some letters,  old photos, shadows of past times,  maybe cash, maybe some bills.

Can a life be contained within a cardboard  box? The trappings the treasures, maybe. The memories,  friendships, lessons learned, life experience? . . . I think not!

And when days are gone, what remains? The inheritance, the precious things? . . .  soon to filter through the fingers of others. So what remains? Is anything of lasting value?

The legacy . . .  values, caring, instilled wisdom, life experience shared . . . love. Far  greater treasures than any other. They are imparted to children and reborn in  children’s children. They flow like a river down generations finding their own expression.

Unlike  Reza’s man on the white field who appeared from the blizzard only to disappear,  they re-emerge again and again.

They give permanence to the life well lived.