We do our best to live a good life and so much can/could/is/was/ accomplished in that time. We raise families. We build homes. We change the landscape around us. Some leave a legacy. Others only footprints. Some pain, others love, and some nothing. How do our lives get to mean so much? With such fleeting time, years blasting by in what seems like days- how is it that our lives ARE so important? So valuable? Ultimately, it's the most wonderful tease we are being pushed through. All the while scraping and scratching at the tunnel of Time, to get ahead- to stay behind- all a struggle to experience, understand, to do/be/leave something meaningful and maybe even lasting while we're flailing in motion. Somehow we rise to challenges and leave more behind us than fingernail scratches, somehow some of us do establish, build, and grow. I LOVE this house at night. During the day- it feels like visiting a gravestone, but at night, it's alive- breathing, creaking, groaning, sighing in the wind. Glowing lamps bring to life old eyes. Faded, curling wallpaper rustles as I walk by. I hear it, I feel the stories- the hearts and love that built the place. My camera isn't a defense, it's a key to see it still surviving in this field, bannered by the Milky Way, still looking out to the mountain and over hills to distant towns of people and growing lights. I've found an old soul in this field, and I think he tolerates- maybe even enjoys- my visits with glowing lamps, a clicking camera, gentle footsteps on creaking bones. I keep thinking he'll turn around from the mountain, face a new view, find a new sight. But, so far, he's keeps to face West, and it's this view over his shoulder I love to return. I feel weird about what I do. A family built this home. I'm here taking a picture of it- and it completely satisfies me. How wandering am I, that I am content to merely discover and document this scene? I think I come back to this house because it's a version of a home and family that moves me, and, in some form or fashion- the thing I leave behind will have an element of this place. Hopefully of the love I feel in the walls, of the design in the eaves, of the angle the windows face, of the canopy of star overhead. For now, I am very content to walk amongst the still standing proof of a special few's accomplishment. I'll never know them, but I can try by what is left behind of them. So... maybe that is enough. To enjoy one's own life, make better those around you, leave something behind worthy that inspires and brings pause to those to yet to come. Tonight, in the end, I am very content and honored to have the opportunity to see and share this scene. To find a connection in an achievement of others I'll never know. It is an honor to visit my old friend.