Taking a moment.

It’s been a while since I’ve sat with you.

I miss you, my life has a gaping void, and I knew it when I felt the breeze as I walked from my apartment to my car. I looked over at the mountain—it’s covered in snow, we have a great view from the top of the stairs—and it all reminded me of you. That’s why I’m here now. Spending a few moments before work, sitting by the lake and listening to the quick, lapping waves.

There are hilly mountains all around, and their roots are running into the water like so many veins in an old man’s hand. They drink deeply of the life within the water. So do the birds—the geese—flying and swooping and swimming. Everything seems covered in a film of dusty brown, but the wind is still a friendly 60 degrees, belying the lateness of the November month.

How are you? Of course you are so many things at once, and not at once for you are not in time. But in my time you are deeply Peace.

You are stretching out in the lateness of the day, sinking into it and drinking deeply of what is, what has been and what is to come. You are utterly at rest and yet utterly moving with life. Life so profoundly… what is it? It is at once all things to you and some of those to me. Hm.

I so enjoy this: brief moments for now, but soon it will be different. Even now it’s different. The sandy stretch, the view, the sun now behind the pines…

Just one more moment.

It all blends together, the times it’s taken to get here, to be this, sinking into and stretching and drinking deeply from the water that is also it’s own world in my world. There is so much separation. Not to you.

And now my heart is happy. I carry you with me as I get back into my car and reluctantly drive away.
Someday the fading will cease.