And the world keeps going round

So many years later as it all keeps spinning, knowing where we've been, and where we've arrived to, it all goes a little too fast for me to savor it, grasp it, like the old fever dream of the sand slipping through my palm, so much of it does it's fleeting dance, dancing away from my hold.
Once years ago a person who would become a best friend one day long, long after, informed that I was the family "chump", I'd always give some forgiveness, another opportunity or chance to those I encountered on this lovely planet we call Earth.
Days could bring you to your knees, steal away the treasures that are found within the people we love, I'd vow a harder human spirit would emerge, and what do I get? The chump side is still there, only I'd prefer to call the resilient child within is the strongest part of the spirit caught within these walls of flesh, the flesh erodes and laughingly the child remains, much like Du Maurier's "Progress of Julius" and his life long story as a small child floating out on the waters he saw the clouds above and reached his hands upward trying to grasp them, and when he died an old man......after a novel full of adventures the last thing he did before he closed his eyes and surrendered to the waters was to reach up towards the skies and try to capture those clouds again in his fists.
So the child comes home from work these winter nights, January driving towards the sun noticing the light and sunsets are with her westward bound, a month early as this usually occurs in February at her birth date, and she knows somehow the world or the planet has slipped a notch early, she's been tracking this progression of winter light for years on that same time of day ride, a small detail to one man, intriguing to her.
As she enters her yard like Julius she looks up to the stars, the moon quarter moon earlier in the week now near a 1/2 moon, despite the cold she could stay out there gazing for awhile, it's still the child who enjoys all this, despite the tired woman who houses her, she goes into see her lovies and start some dinner.
One possible question is: Who is the chump really? The one that harbors the grudges. The one who buys into the bullshit? The one who teaches the lessons of always placing blame elsewhere?  Do we just leave that as a legacy, or do we keep on trying to mend fences, and build bridges?
Out of a cast of thousands, I only hold on to a neighbor grudge and maybe a handful from my youth of trusted friends who were disguised evils.  But in adult life, even if the shadow or subconscious person knows better or tries to guard, the woman puts herself on ice and lets the child lead with wonder that still is the essence.
I don't hold grudges, what was, was, what is, is, hopefully each chapter gave us something that was heartwarming, and hopefully we all see the beauties enough to know that that cup of life has always been replenished and remains Half Full.