Autumn

Took a short walk at Mom and Dad's yesterday, right around sunset. It had rained - a nice, solid, autumn rain - and there was a vivid orange blanket of leaves, lying soft on the ground. The trunks of the trees were black and wet in contrast, lending to the the impression of some calendar photograph: a scene from a Japanese garden, or an illustration alongside a Robert Frost poem.

Definitely inspired some meditation. I stood there, wishing I could carry back the scene, the moment, to my father, who loved to ride down these trails, pointing out blackberries to my mother in the summer, watching for deer in the fall. He would have stopped here, too, I think, and said to my mother, "Well, would you look at that..."

Tearjerkers

I have been watching lots of period romance, can-never-be-together tearjerkers, lately. Why is that? Maybe I'm just hormonal, mooning around wanting romance. Maybe I'm trying to process the things I've been thinking about lately (people, relationships, etc.). Maybe I'm looking for a safe, controlled outlet for tears.

Today I sat in a room with my dying father, watching through the window as my seven-year-old son rolled down a sun-splashed hill in brilliant flashes of white T-shirt and red sweatpants. Life energies and generations; one waxing, the other waning.

I have buried myself in classes and causes, but none are a perfect escape route. Reality continues, with or without my cooperation.

We're caught in the grey, now. Not knowing when, we feel the need to watch and wait, cling to moments. We look back, and look forward. Both make us cry.