The word has come to mean
lot of things – a conclusion, a termination, a finish line. It is connoted in
the way of walking away from a relationship, sense of pride in a purpose served
or a finale. Though we recognize it in the only way we know we never accepted
it, not in sense it is really meant to be.
We move on when a phase
comes to a close; we cry over a relationship that ceased to exist; we regret
even a minor lapse to win a race that would mean nothing. As we drift through
life, day and night, over months and years, we hardly think about part of our
lives that made us move on, that made us cry or the race we lost.
We close off a part of us
that had meant so at one point. In the objective to move ahead we fail to
retrospect what made us look forward in the first place.
Every ending is a story,
for it reminds us what we have; lament what we lost; and most of all it tells
you there is more.
An end of a semester or a
month or a day – it is something to be celebrated and to be cherished.
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