When a cicada emerges from the underground they only have 4 to 6 weeks left to live. So they fill our near forests with their call, maybe for something more. Other than laying offspring in trees and have it start all over again.
Of course you don’t usually think about these things when you do hear their call. But, in some ways, it is their dying song.
Some days surely render themselves as frozen, don’t they? Where you’re certain this is how it’s gonna be forever. Maybe you imagine yourself stuck in a certain grade school year – to be the permanent freshman.
It seems like graduations are the same as cicadas rising. Career progressions too. Most truly live 4 to 6 weeks between the rest of their 60 years, if they’re granted such time. Sometimes you aren’t granted such time.
When I walk around the mall lately it feels like the packed up auditorium. Stores keep shutting down, and the light fixtures are broken in its eerie halls of shuttered walk ins. The isle vendors keep disappearing. But maybe this is an alternative world – I mean, of course the mall is meant for those with some semblance of youth not yet lost.
Sometimes it seems our days after graduation render as a fading existence. The difference between us and cicadas is at least we hear their song.