I see what I see—and that’s all

There is an old story about a writer who goes to his teacher and says, “Teacher, all the stories have already been told. There is no need for me to write.
“Everything that needs to be said has already been written.”
“It’s true that there are no new stories,” the teacher replied. “The universal lessons have been taking place for a long, long time and the same themes have influenced humanity since time began.
“But no one sees that story through your eyes and no one else in the world will tell that story exactly the way you will.
“Now return to your desk, pick up your pen, and tell the world what you see.”
I see a whole lot more leaves on the ground than I wish were there.
I see geese flocking by the hundreds in the fields on my way to work, and I should stop and admire the beauty in their numbers. Soon they will be in the southern U.S. basking in the sun while I wipe the frost off my eyelashes as I make my way to my snow blower.
I see I forgot to take the recycle bin to the curb again, for the fourth time in a row.
I see a pile of bills stacked on my office desk. The one on top says “2nd notice” and the postmark is July 30. Oops.
I see I am out of toilet paper at the moment I need it. The spare roll is in the truck of my car for when I travel. Nice.
I see I have 763 unread e-mails on my laptop. Guess I’m spending too much time outside the box.
I see the Christmas catalogue is now available and I have yet to read the “Spring and Summer” version.
I see the cat barf (after I stepped in it). I see, after I stepped in it, the dog poop in the grass near my sailboat, which also made it into the cockpit.
I see I forgot to throw those leftovers out, now a green fuzzy thing. What was it again?
I see that there are consequences in every decision I make, and I sometimes I wish someone else would decide.
I see that I make mistakes.
I see change coming. I never know if it’s good or not, but it’s coming anyway.
I see I was right. I see I was not right. I see I can’t do as many things on my own as I thought I could.
I see life change in an instant.
I see the signature of my favourite Miller boy, the late Jim Miller, in permanent black marker on a saw blade in my barn from the Drennan reunion back in July. Thank God you were here with us.
I see random acts of kindness not enough.
I see stories worthy of writing every day and I don’t write them.
I see I still have much to learn about the two paths in life. Mine and yours.
I don’t see if they join up yet. I hope they do.