Sometimes in the vastness of everything, the comings and goings, the doings and demands, the texture of life can get lost. A child will always make a bee line for the lake’s water with a frantic parent running behind calling their name. An elderly person walking slowly with their four legged child speaking quietly and if you look you’ll see such softness in their eyes. The leaves, caught in autumn’s breeze dance and prepare to take flight only to crash against a metal fence. You can almost see, in their pause, their bewilderment, having taken flight, and then they rest upon the ground, content.
So much life in front of us, and in Life’s infinity, never an end. There is no hand that writes “The End” only the gentle touch that turns the page and continues to whisper the next chapter. Winter is coming, and all retreat inside. The season of reflection and quiet. Would that we carry the winter’s rhythm each day and see the textures of Life and Love. Maybe, I wonder, if we did, the hurts and sorrows we cause or suffer might diminish …. Having learned to see Life’s little things, to turn the page.…the true tapestry of Life….Love.