As time goes on

It’s been one, two, three, four, five years since my father died. To my surprise from where I stood five years ago, the world kept spinning, life moved forward from the time he walked here. I no longer feel like I am walking through wet sand. My feet are steady again, my heart is whole again. I was told that would be true but then again, time has shown me what no one told me. He is not gone. My father is very much here with me, in my heart, in my memories, in the lessons he taught me and the guidance his words still provide. In the magic voice the world speaks, the one he taught me to hear.



I am writing from the picnic table on the back porch of the riverside cabin my parents built. A great Live Oak tree shades my spot. Fluttering above me and through the broad tree limbs are countless birds. A pair of Cardinals, a young woodpecker, others I cannot name. A hawk lazily circled in the clearing earlier. Two V-formations of geese fly overhead, and the lazy pelicans stand on the bulkhead posts. This is a scene he would love and, through me, does.



I took a walk at sunrise this morning. I filled the bird feeders that I hung this past summer. Later, I’ll pour myself a glass of champagne and go for a walk with the dogs around the property, check things out, observe the changes in the season, in the light.



What I do here is what I learned from watching my father.  Observe, care for, enjoy, don’t interrupt.