Tonight, my younger son will go to the prom -- a last dance for those graduating from high school. Everyone will get dressed to the nines in tuxedos and ball gowns.
There will even be some limousines.
Skittering parents will click pictures and smile uncertain smiles and the kids will feel quite grown-up in their finery, though the question may linger and nag, "is there life after high school?" Their now-drooping parents will remember in whispers their own rites of passage, the passage of time, and delight in the outcome their kids represent ... a delight tinged with desolation: How the hell did that happen?
The desolation of delight. The end that is the beginning. The effect for which a cause may be sought, pounced upon, and then dribble a way like a fistful of water.
Is there such a thing as cause? I doubt it. More likely, everything is an effect ... but even then ...
Perhaps cause and effect are overrated by quite a lot.
Always the last dance.