Pine Scent...

In the early hours of the morning, it rained lightly, just enough to leave the Earth feeling refreshed and cleansed. In the trees, there are bluebirds, and finches caring for their young, protectively, as the red hawks ride the currents in the sky.

Today's walk is that of solitude and peace. The gentle sounds of Nature are healing in note. Life is gift. I walk quietly, gently placing my sandal covered feet, one in front of the other. I see neighbors from the lane, strolling with the use of walker or cane. I nod my head, and smile.

The hill urges me upward. From the top, I see a panoramic vista, tree-covered hills, and green as far as the sun. I stand in stillness, watching. Breathing in. Breathing out. The feral cats roll in the grass. I continue walking.

Sometimes, I feel as if I can almost smell the Sea. People say it is the Delta Breeze that brings in the smell of the open water. I breathe in, and remember wild, untamed waves.

One of my neighbors is waving at me from across the way. I start back down the hill toward her. She is in her nineties. Recently, she was in hospital. Her son, anguished, did all he could to save her. The best doctors, the best medical care. No expense was spared. He even moved her to a convalescent home. But, she was miserable, as she missed her friends on the lane. Reluctantly, her son moved her back. Surrounded by familiar people and landscape, she is once again thriving. So, when she waved at me, I made my way as quickly as I could to her side. She sat in the shade on her walker's built in seat. I sat in the sunlight, on the grass, looking up into her eyes as she spoke of her childhood Chicago, and her beloved husband who died after the war.

Her voice was that of one, who preparing for a long voyage, stops long enough to impart last minute wisdom. I listened, transfixed.

"Would you like to go to Chicago?" I asked. "Oh, no. I can't travel." She said.

"We could go by train. And you could show me Chicago." I said. "Now, that's a city!" She said cheerfully. "Would you like to go back, just for a visit. I would go with you." I repeated, sincerely.

She touched the upper part of my hand, tentatively, timidly, lovingly.

"Would you like to go to Chicago?" She asked. "Only with you." I said.

We sat listening to birds calling out to one another. My neighbor's breathing became labored. "Should we return home?" I asked, knowing she relied on her oxygen tank to ease the struggle in her lungs. We walked down the lane to her door. "Look!" She pointed to a poster of the Windy City skyline. "My eldest son has a matching photograph hanging by his door in his fancy downtown Chicago apartment."

"So, when you both look at it, you are connected." I said. "Yea, something like that, kid." She patted my head, and ruffled my hair. "Go get a haircut!" She laughed. We both said good-bye, as I continued walking.

In all fairness, dear reader, my hair has grown quite long and grey. And, I do need a haircut. I walked into the Old Wood forest, and smiled.

The Loving Family

In the post, I received an invitation. It was a beautiful card from my friend who lives in the far away land of the Eastern shore. My friend is a wife, mother, and cosmopolitan woman, urbane, witty, upwardly mobile, and fashionably accomplished. Knowing how I cherish news from the greater world, my good friend sends me notes, and letters, and photos.

The correspondence I receive from her is something I treasure, and look forward to each day. Through her written words, and photographs, she makes me feel included as part of her family. I admire her so very much. She has three children, and loves them all equally. But, on this day, Saturday, her son celebrated his Bar Mitzvah. She has every right to be extra proud of him today. On this day, her little thirteen year old boy became a man, in the eyes of God and community.

In essence, her little boy, now a man, has accepted the mantle, honor and responsibility of adulthood. In front of extended family and friends, her son said, "Yes, God."

I remember when I celebrated my Confirmation. I, too, was asked to stand before my community, my tribe, and claim my Rite of Passage into adulthood. I, too, was asked to say, "Yes", to God.

It is an adult question that requires an adult response. My friend's son, possessed the wisdom and maturity to stand, and rise to the occasion. Yes, my friend has every right to be proud of her son, and all that he was able to accomplish.

For my part, I am proud of my friend, and the job she did as mother.

My friend lives in a big city. While I live in a tiny rural town. We are city mouse, and country mouse. We live different lives. But, what keeps us connected?

All people are different from each other. Our differences set us apart in unique and wondrous ways. Despite these outward differences, that which we have in common is infinitely more powerful, infinitely more beautiful.

Each of us, whether city mouse, or country mouse, rich or poor, healthy or physically challenged, is called upon at some specific moment or another, to stand, rise, and proclaim before God and community, "Yes!"

Among other things, we share a bond of love and faith. It is this bond that unites us, making us a vast human family.

Pax, Shalom, Namaste.

Butterflies are free...

In the blistering heat, the inside of the post office is cool and refreshing. Lark and David, behind the counter, help all of us who have gathered in the quiet. Long-haired Lark, the elven queen, offers to search for packages. David, much like his scriptural namesake, strong and ruddy-faced, lifts heavy parcels. We, the customers, complain not, as we wait. Time passes slowly in the shaded interior. Antique stamp displays intrigue us as Lark and David dance their well coordinated ballet---and yes, it is beautiful.

Customers inside the small brick building smile at one another. We speak to each other of the weather and ceiling wax, and of cabbages and kings. There is always such a sense of deep abiding love, and childhood wonder inside our post office. The desire to hug one another is strong, as we purchase envelopes and postage. "It's good to see you!" David calls out. "Take care and be well." Lark blesses us as we leave.

Today, the sun is especially bright, but the soft breeze is comforting.

All is right with the world. Poppy colored butterflies flit by. The Wise Women of the used book store gaze upon me from afar, and sing out in siren-song. "Come. We have a book on hold for you. It is a special book, about a porcelain rabbit that goes on a solitary but miraculous journey!" I purchase the book, and several others. I can't resist. Reading in bed by the light of candle and moon is one of my most favorite pleasures. I continue on my walk, brown-paper wrapped parcel under my arm.

In the woods near my home, a little old man feeds the wild cats. I see this man throughout the seasons, Winter, Spring, Summer, and even now as we humbly approach the Fall. He stands watch over his cats as they eat. "His little children." I think to myself. Perhaps it is not being loved, rather the ability to love someone, or something else, that truly makes us feel human.

There is a picnic table, protected from the elements, where seniors gather in the afternoon. They share tea-cakes and laughter. They reminisce joyfully, as they toss back the last of the summer wine.

I wave as I walk by. God is good. Oh, dearest reader! How blessed we are to love, and be so loved in return.