August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
Sylvia Plath
I’m joining in with a group of writers for Five Minute Friday where we’re given a prompt (this week it’s RUSH) and write for five minutes about it.
Today, the last day of what we have come to experience as the months of summer, looks like it will be a beautiful one. The morning air is crisp and gloriously clear—no smoke from forest fires today.
I can get a little bit melancholy at the thought that summer is waning, that it feels as if it rushed by, or I can choose to honour the gifts of the season with thanksgiving.
For me, it was a rich one.
Our LLF (Long Lost Family) vacation kicked off what was a summer of family. Memories made here at Camp G and G with our granddaughter—captured in our hearts and on a photo slideshow we saved on a little flash drive for her to take home—were precious beyond measure.
I do not know what the fall will bring. I am not ready to think about it.
In the middle of last night when sleep was elusive I prayed: help me keep my eyes on you.
Today, just this. That is enough.
Your last few lines are just beautiful.
Thank you.