This has been a year of severe disruption and angst. Many projects have been delayed, many hobbies and passions lay in waste from lack of time, funds, inner strength, and, quite simply, unbearable, choking grief. Hopes and aspirations lie in decay with the rotting leaves on the ground.
As I type these words I glance up at my Dad’s squirrel calendar, now on November. I had given it to him last Christmas, one of those many traditional gifts that always bring delight. Every time I would visit, he would bring me into his study to make sure I saw the latest month’s squirrel. He was so taken by the scenes I gifted him a small picnic table with umbrella for his own squirrels to enjoy, mounted on a fence post.
During the darkest times in ICU, when we were trying to bring him all things familiar to help rouse him to consciousness, I brought in the squirrel calendar, along with many other beloved items. My brother mounted it on the wall so that if by some chance he glanced upward he would see his beloved squirrels.
I walked around the lake at lunch for the first time in what seems like centuries. A solo journey. Externally the walk looks so simple, just two legs moving, basic locomotion propelling one forward, slight incline, slight decline. But every step forward is a struggle inside my heart. Inside swirls a tempest of emotions. Trauma, loss, dear memories, cries of unfairness. I try to find a way to sift through everything. The blue sky and gravel path are anchors, bringing me back when my thoughts spiral down too far. I think about others I’ve seen walking alone. It makes me wonder what is inside their heads, and their hearts, as they walk.
There is something comforting and potentially about nature. For me there is a sense of endurance, of constant change and the cycle of life, bound in pure eternity. Nature holds the memories in its DNA of all the centuries before. The fall leaves smell the same as they always have. The soft wind feels the same on my cheeks. There is no judgement, no clinging to what was, no angst over change. It just is.
I stop at the apex of the second lake’s path to look back at home. My well-loved home, a place of such joy, warmth, happy memories, and comfort, looks so far away. I long to find to my way back.
