You know how it is sometimes when you are old. You look around, especially at other old people, and you begin to wonder about life. Good grief.
Your brain is so tender you cannot even formulate the question that might send you screaming into the night.
And so I pray.
In such a strange mood, I went out into the crowd again to see what I would see.
Here is what I saw:
Babies in their mother's arms, screaming for things they could not have.
Mothers herding or carrying children. Mothers who DID NOT LOOK HAPPY!
Young men gazing off into nothingness, stress wrinkles appearing right before your eyes, walking alongside little families. Trailing alongside little families. Sometimes a toddler in arms, held skewampus and sort of like an afterthought.
Old people shuffling and huffing and fighting gravity.
More old people shuffling and huffing and fighting gravity.
Blowing winds.
Clouds in our no-longer-normal sky.
Birds, desperate for crumbs.
I scurried back to my dwelling.
Sad.
Wondering.
Afraid of the answer.
And so I prayed.
Night fell, covering my dwelling and sad sleep.
I awakened from a WOW dream of peace, as though a book were being written for me.
Scrolling down like scanning news on a computer.
Every serious writer knows this kind of advancing clarity, a gift.
To serve God.
To live.
To procreate.
To love.
To cling to life. To make the effort.
To fulfill thy days.
To love and pray for others.
…...the Fabric of Life.
No longer sad,
thanks for dropping in,
Riverwatch
