I've imagined the scene ever since, but it doesn't haunt me as it might have had I experienced the disaster firsthand.
These blue, orange, and black feathered visions are trivial in the grand scheme, but it means a great deal to me to anticipate their return. As for the regeneration of the plants. Here, now, we lose the cold and gain the warmth once again. The warmth outside spreads inside. The temperatures fall and climb, and my life has followed a similar cycle. Isn't it really the story of possession and loss? Childhood innocence giving way to awareness, the attainment of abilities and possessions, their diminishment and eventual disappearance? Like my walking. I used to jog; I used to walk a lot faster. I used to cover a lot more ground.
I often ask myself: if nothing stays, then what is left? Maybe it's
the old answer — Love. As a child, I learned to embrace things and people. Beauty and goodness of every kind attracted me so much I now anticipate the positive, on this kind of walk in particular. I try to accommodate the negative but appreciate whatever positive Nature
can offer.
Plodding through the park, I search for what next will surprise me. I'm already grateful, no matter what it will be. My walks create hope, hope I will carry back home.