by cheri sabraw
Since my mother died, it’s been a reflective several months for me.
I have thought a great deal about aging but more about vitality–how to keep it and nourish it.
This evening, the glorious rain that has pounded Northern California for four days took a momentary break as if to say, ” There! Are you happy? Now that I have doused your fear of fire in the hills, what are you thinking?”
Good question. What am I thinking?
I stepped outside on my adobe porch tonight. To be honest, I took with me a glass of Wente Chardonnay and sat down on the step to consider and reconsider how, under the constant pounding of both rain and time, I should approach the next decade.
Add to those thoughts and to the reflective nature of the night, the blowing of the North Wind Boreas and the croaking of thousands of frogs–maybe Leto’s peasants?– across our road, swimming and flirting in the old watering trough.
Talk about vitality.
The moon breaks through the rain clouds, creating a lovely halo around her visage.
The creek, anemic until this rain storm, its flow down to 12 inches, now carries leaf duff and little walnut-shell boats on a thrilling ride to the San Francisco Bay and to the sea.
The caterpillar I found on the fern, inches upward, looking for a safe haven in which to pause.
I am reminded of the energy of the visible and the invisible universe where atoms collide, where frogs bark into a dark moor, and where a yellow dog looks for affection.