Sunsets in rearview mirrors we notice then drive off into the future; the golden moment morphs orange and is extinguished as we turn.
The past is over our shoulders the instant we cross it; no two sunsets the same, though the next we take for granted.
While I still can, I u-turn and loop again, exerting control over this moment so my daughter can get a better shot; soon, she’ll too leave my nest.
Lots of what I hoped to instill seems to have slipped through the sieve-holes of time, but this hobby I’ve shared I think will remain as a tie that mother-daughter binds.
I take my own shot of the second shot at making subtle pleasant memories, freezing the golden and the orange to develop and hold when we are both older; I hope we grow closer in this future I turn to again and hesitantly proceed.
Sunsets in rearview mirrors. Years later, I sigh nostalgically, holding my grandbaby’s hand and tearing up over her mother with the requited affection that the years since her teens did bring.
Sunsets in rearview mirrors: never let go of the more that they may someday be.