Reflection
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-Five
Post Forty-Five
New Years Eve 2023, I found myself needing to walk in the torrential rain. Sailing along the old route taken with Sunday, my beloved doggy, gone three month now.
The mantras & praying led me to weep against a Grey Elder tree, the 50 year old steadfastly & stoically supported my grief.
In my arms I recounted the past year, the blessings, the security, the protection, culminating in sorrow of what was past.
The rain enveloped me, carrying me home, merging my tears with each droplet falling from the blackened sky.
My own mother passed in 2002, and now I rest in the bosom of Mother Nature, so strong, powerful and accepting. Ever constant---she'll remain alive well after I'm long gone and forgotten.
I returned home and peeled off my drenched orange slicker, lit the house with candles as incense wafted throughout.
In the flickering light I sipped chilled Amaretto, talked on the phone with my family and nearing midnight, I reached for my doggys favorite sky blue velvet calming blanket. I clutched it to my breast. Pressing the corner against my lips, kissing him as the hands struck midnight. And sang...
"For old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind. Should old acquaintance be forgot, for the sake of auld lang syne.
We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till night.
The seas between us Lord and swell, since the days of auld lang syne...."
No comments:
Post a Comment