We let these things go because they are too hard to hold onto. We let the days slip between our fingers and swim off down the river of time into the endless sea of the past. We let lovers slip away into the night, leaving only the echoes of themselves fading from our fingertips as they walk away into memory and regret.
People fade into, then out of, our lives like some film coming into focus as they walk into shot and then blurring, fading away, as they leave the scene and our story moves on.
Stories are like lives, with their beginnings and endings and casts of characters, some major and some minor. We are all characters in the stories of each other’s lives, moving in and out of each other’s narrative and always changing the world and changing history.
There is glib talk of moments, events that changed the world, events that changed history. That is all history really is, though, the story of a series of events that changed history. Everything changes history; otherwise, there would be no story to tell.
History is a story and all our lives are a story too. Everything and everyone always has some tale to tell.