Some light from a Thursday evening wander
It’s a bit after six and I’m just in from a walk … not something I’ve had much time to do lately. I didn’t wander far … just to places I hadn’t visited in awhile in my little neck of the woods.
My brook, usually so pretty and noisy, sits bare with her rocks waiting waiting for a filling rain. The pond is the same, only with the prints of bear, deer, and turkeys dotting the now visible shore. Oh … and the dog prints. Everywhere, because it’s her personal playground.
The talkative evening birds squawk as I disturb their evening business with my romping and the wind stirs in a bit of what I’m sure are remnants of western wide fire smoke.
I realize I’m trying to shake off the sad, as I think about the smoke and what it means for so many. Although we’re thankfully far from that danger, we have our own to consider. Usually a time of campfires and the end of summer BBQ’s, we’re without that nice time, being conscious of the health of our place and people. No gatherings, no campfires, no smiles because they still need to stay hidden, our patience with the novelty of the pandemic has long worn off, and it’s easy to be hurt, offended and scared.
Shaking off the sad, as I walked and stewed about this dilemma.
I remembered watching the kids at the school … a new pattern of life there, but a nice break from the sad, as they reconnected and were reassured that beloved teachers, staff, and Mr. Valence were there to greet them. And even if the tide turns and we’re back to limited or no school for a while, we will continue to find ways to be supportive and manage.
Shaking off the sad, as I saw a bit of light in that tunnel I walked.
I continued my trek and reflected on the various conversations I had been part of for the past few weeks. The unintended hurt as support was seen as rejection. The voices heard as complaints, but were really shared as concern. The defense response leading to offense, and so on and so on.
Shaking off the sad, as I remind myself: these are the patterns of a life held in limbo as we rearrange the flow to accommodate the obstructions that are all so frustrating.
And when I finally realized that the sad had recessed, it was because I remembered that through it all, we each do our very best to remain resilient, kind and supportive, regardless of our hurts and sad hearts.
Lyme, we are a team, helping each other shake off the sad with respect and honor.