It’s a Beautiful Day

We went to see A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood yesterday afternoon. It was perfect. In a time when the world seems loud and angry it was a respite. Some thoughts as I watched the movie I’ve carried with me into a new day. I wish I was more like Mr. Rogers. He had a

In Season

In late-August the leaves on the trees in my neighborhood started to show the first signs of turning color. It was easy to miss the subtle change, and I did for many years. Now I’m in the autumn of my life and sense a kinship in the shift. The intensity of summer and the almost

In the Afternoon

I spend a good part of the day on the sofa in the den, heating pad on high, surrounded by books. I can’t even muster the strength to go to the garden, so I send Gerry to water and harvest tomatoes and Swiss chard for supper. It feels like a wasted day. Countless things, indoors

In the Balcony

I’m coming out of a store when I see my mother standing on the sidewalk. Not really, she’s been dead for thirty-four years, but there’s something about the woman’s frame, her pink cotton blouse, the way she styled her hair, and the softness of her throat that reminds me of my mom. It’s like someone

Words

I’m still thinking about seasons, and the unexpected rewards and challenges that come with change, and something I read in my morning meanderings gives me pause. Contentment. The word seems bolded in the essay but the emphasis is in my mind alone, and I realize I’ve drifted and need to correct course. Trust. That’s another one,