Not everything that leaves us was ever ours to keep.
Field Notes
A child gathers as much sand as their small hands can hold.
Most of it remains.
Some of it slips quietly through the spaces between their fingers, following gravity without effort or intention. The child isn’t pouring it away. They aren’t giving up. They’re simply discovering what fine sand naturally does.
We often believe that if we hold life carefully enough, nothing important will leave us.
But some things are experienced rather than possessed.
Like running water.
Like a sunset.
Like childhood.
Like time itself.
The hands were never meant to keep everything.
Only to hold it for a little while.