Permanent Impermanence

It occurred to me today

that at some point

not long ago,

I changed my last diaper.

Don't get it twisted,

I'm thrilled to be done with it,

but it would’ve been

nice to know

that that was that.

Had I been informed then

that this will be the final time

you lift up these

fat, squirmy legs,

that your children

will no longer

need you

in this way

ever again —

there may've been

a different kind of


streaking down

my face.

This happens

all the time

when you think about it —

we live in a state of



swimming in an ocean of

last times.

At some point

we all checked our

answering machine

for the last time

not realizing

the red blinking number,

that flashing promise

of a boundless,

exhilarating future

was actually a


to the end of so many

things analog,


that boundless feeling.

How often do we get

the opportunity

to have a final


at a restaurant we


before it goes

out of business?

And if we do,

you can be sure

we'll cherish

every morsel

knowing these are

our last bites

before the

kitchen closes

its doors forever.

But we do —

we do get this


and we know it's true yet

we somehow can’t seem to

navigate our lives

by it —

everything we do will have

its final occurrence

some day


it'll be the last time you

swim those waters,

kiss those lips,

dance that freely,

watch the moon rise

from that place,

peel a fresh mango,

hug your father.

Most of us seek 


by changing the world

around us,

but it’s far more

fulfilling (and easier)

to simply change

the focus of our


to want the things

in front of us,


that all these things,

like leaves

are clinging

so delicately

to the branches of our

aging trees,

ready to drop

ready to let go


the wind changes