There are holes in the blanket of my life. The warp and weave of life as I remember it is dissolving. Houses are gone. Torn down so that something else, larger and grander, can be built in their place. I can’t even remember what they looked like. It’s like when a man shaves his beard. You know something different is about him, but why? Memory is such a strange thing.
Visiting the coastal community where I raised my children, I am acutely aware that many friends are no longer among those walking physically. I feel them; I miss them; I remember the good times, the laughter and sorrows that we shared. I believe that this fate will soon come my way. Soon is relative, mind you.
Will my life have mattered at all? Rhetorical question. Mine is not a name that will be remembered in the history books nor on street signs or on boulevards. Of course it has mattered: to my soul, to my children and grandchildren, to family, friends and clients. The songs sung to Mother Ocean and to the trees have become part of them. Mother Ocean rolled far up on the beach this morning to slap my legs in response to my call. Hearty hellos to all the creature beings, including the cows and calf who live downhill from family members, bring delighted surprise. The cows run happily to the fence to look at me. Also to look for food scraps. 😊 Each expression has impact, albeit like invisible ink. Energy expended goes somewhere. I trust, for the good. These are my thoughts during a time of reflection over the past several days.
Let’s make good use of our life! Time is of the essence.
With Love and Gratitude,
Barb
© Barbara J. Woolley, Reflector, Friday, September 6, 2024. If you share this blog with others, please do so in its entirety. Feel free to comment. I enjoy hearing from you! If you would like to subscribe to these blogs, go to http://www.loveworksmiracles.org.
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