Coming around the corner the scenery changes drastically. Brown grass and grey sagebrush is replaced by circles of green; winter wheat shooting up its blades from rich dark soil to bright warm sunlight. In the distance a silver line squiggles west meeting the clouds on the horizon. The river.
I am almost home from my days excursions and I am tired.
I have engaged three different friends in a similar discussion this past week. Can we draw good from the losses in our lives? A loss of health. A prognosis of a degenerative nature. A death of a teenage son. There must be a point in the grieving where we leave the desert’s winter landscape behind. We turn the corner to see new growth, and a silvery river that leads us away from “here” to “there”.
I have the easiest journey. I get a reprieve from my loss.
336 hours or
14 days or
I get to turn back the clock and take up step with a different troop.