into the rose garden

I recently went to see a band  in a beautiful church in Brighton (King Creosote) with some of my dearest  friends.  It was a much anticipated event and had been sold out for weeks.  As we sat huddled in the dark, the band did not disappoint and it was a wonderful evening.  In fact, so wonderful that I kept finding myself being moved to tears.

All I could think about was how I was going to miss all of this very soon when I leave. I found myself missing something that was only part way through.  It was already being placed in the past before the band had even considered what they might play for the encore.

Having lived away before, I know what I am going to miss and how hard it can be to re-establish friendships. So I find myself missing everything and everyone right here and now before we have said goodbye.  I fear that when my future crosses back to this, it will be a different country .

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.

(extract: Burnt Norton, T.S. Eliot)