There is something almost magical
about this time of year.
It's a resting place.
It's a quiet limbo-
the sweet meditation time
before Christmas shopping begins
and a whole new year opens up.
It's down time.
Reflecting time.
My time.
The yard work is done.
The garden is used up.
The summer parties
are over for another year.
So I take this time
to look back.
At all that I've done-
and all that I didn't do.
I take stock-
a private inventory
of my dreams.
I try to bury regrets
and magnify accomplishments.
I try to remember moments-
not months.
I grasp at smiles and laughter-
and I secretly discard
those days of tears and toil.
My blog is a diary.
A daily dose of life.
A memoir-
(that somehow)-
without quite realizing it-
I've left here like a pathway
to the past.
I hope my children
walk amid my words someday.
I hope they read and see and feel
each memory that I wrote.
I hope they laugh
and cry
and cringe
at stories of fantasy and fact.
November.
As the pond reflects
another year almost gone,
I weep.
Tears of despair for what I
could not change.
Tears of joy
that God has loved me
and given me these
beautiful seasons...
...and this special time
to be thankful.
