Remember, Friends

A downpour is goin' on outside. A beautiful way to begin my morning.

It has been dry this summer. Rumor has it we're in a drought and I don't doubt it as splotches of brown can be found on the ground where before? Only deep green. We need this rain. This rain is a beautiful thing.

Fall is in the air. Leaves are on the fringes of changing as a few golden leaves can be found dotted amongst the trees. And I am ready.

The girls at work and I have been talking lately on our walks about how we are all ready for autumn: pumpkins and crisp apples with caramel and sweatshirts and scarves and trees that display the wonder of a thousand colors and marshmallows over a fire. Mm.

Probably my most favorite thing, though, is the long evenings. Already I'm getting a taste of this bounty of time that is spread before me when I get home in the evenings as I've been walking earlier than normal, so by the time I'm home from work, walked my three miles, supper is over and done and I've hopped in the shower, it's 6:30.

Yeah. 6:30.

For the past three nights I've actually been in my jammies before 7:00 with this wide open space for doing whatever I please. Ah. Heaven.

Last night? I watched the season opening of Nashville and caught up with a friend whom I haven't spoken with in almost 5 years. It's kind of ridiculous how much time can go by when you blink twice.

I've managed to be in bed every night by 9:30. That is unheard of during summer days when the sun shares its bounty for far longer than it does during winter days.

A few days ago, the girls at work and I were doing our usual walk when we noticed this older man attempting to walk across the street from the courthouse. It's set up as two one way streets with a sidewalk of sorts in between so that one only has to cross one street at a time. We noticed him as he was crossing the first street, painfully putting his walker in front of him and slowly taking a single step, and then repeat. It was painful to watch, and the three of us just stood there, deliberating whether we should assist. But he was making it, one step at a time, and the cars were patiently waiting as he inched his way forward. When he got to the other side of the first road, we heaved a sigh of relief and again talked amongst ourselves: should we help him? And about that time, he started forward yet again, inching slowly, one step forward...walker, step, walker step...as we held our breath. And then to our delight, as we just weren't sure if our assistance would be welcomed, a tall middle-aged man stopped as he was crossing and spoke to this elderly gentleman. We couldn't hear them, of course, but we could imagine the exchange that was happening between the two of them. The middle aged man nodded his head and continued on his way while the elderly gentleman pursued his course.

We sighed in relief and moved on down the road, comfortable that this little old guy would be okay, that he was determined and independent, that it didn't matter how long it took to cross the road, it only mattered that he crossed it.

I happened upon this old epithet awhile ago that reads like this:

Remember, friends, as you walk by,
As you now are so once was I.
As I am now, so you must be.
Prepare yourself to follow me.

When I first read that, it stopped me in my tracks because of the stark reality of its words. Life is so short, filled with seasons that change, subtly at first, and then whisk in with splendor. Life is filled with valleys and mountains, with plains of every day normal, with joy and sadness. And then? Well then it's over.

When I was talking to my friend last night, she told me that she has days of such sheer joy and then moments of deep sadness. That's okay, I told her, as she is considerably younger than me. What is important is that you keep feeling that joy and feeling that sadness, because that is what life is about. It's when we don't feel that we become disconnected, numb to our realities. And that is a dangerous thing.

Some days we are all that little old man who is crossing the street. Somedays we just have to plod forward, inching our way, hoping and praying we reach the other side. And some days we're watching Nashville in our pajamas, a steaming cup of herbal tea in hand, dreaming of all our tomorrows.