There was a fearsome force hereabouts last week. It made the windows rattle and branches snapped. It tossed most of the last of the leaves – and everything else – about. Our leaves, our neighbor’s, their neighbor’s – and on and on and on, baring the trees and bending our heads, the mighty wind did blow.
So it goes in November; a month of letting go, as we here in the northern hemisphere turn a sharp corner into winter.
I was thinking about this Novembersish “letting go” on Friday; the leaves falling, the wind blowing, the subtle shifts of angel rays dappling the woodwork, walls, and what-knots of my life. I caught the sun awakening on this stone rabbit who resides in a corner of the living room. A bit of luck as the morning light usually fades as fast as the time it takes to grab a camera . . .
. . . as fast as a life can be snuffed out by those who choose to reign in terror.
I started this post early on Friday. I planned to write about the changing weather; the fallen leaves, the harsh winds. I went about my day, attended a lovely luncheon, did a few errands, made a few phone calls and texts to loved ones; my everyday life here on the Cutoff. I had an audio book to keep me company in the car, so did not hear the horrific news coming out of Paris until a phone call with Jennifer, who is often the barometer in my life, gently giving me readings of where the winds of life are blowing.
My heart and prayers go out to all whose lives were forever changed. My heart and prayers go out for Paris.