The lives of Flies

I woke up this morning to the sound of a fly. A high pitched dentists drill that reverberated within my skill. Annoyed, frustrated, and irritated! But the fly did not seem to care. Careening all over our room in pointless orbits. Brief rest stops on Donna and I seemed to be part of its enjoyment. Donna disappeared under the duvet and I ground my teeth.


What do you do with a fly so early in the morning? With buzzing in my ears, I sat up, tears not far away. Moments later, it alighted on my knee. And its life ended abruptly as my hands smashed together just above the space where it once sat.

I snuggled back into my duvet and could not help wondering about the life of a fly. It seems rather pointless, flying around with careless abandon, annoying all the other creatures it comes into contact with, and then the stupid thing dies. The flies perspective is equally pointless, it just does what it does, looks for bad smells, lays some eggs, and considers life as a job well done.

Instead of me drifting off to sleep, I got to thinking about my life and how similar it is to that fly. Rushing from one thing to the next. Not really adding the real kind of value that could be added all of the time. Annoying and frustrating people along the way; even though that is not the intention at all.

And then one day, while I am contemplating my navel, it will all end rather suddenly.

Like the fly, my life may be seen as heaps of bluster and noise, even a good riddance!

I wonder if it will all have been worthwhile.