It appears to me a colourless sort of day
\na day of dreary wintry sort of thawing
\nand rain
\nit is the time of year when we are in want of
\ncolour,\u00a0 something new, fresh and
\nvibrant
\nthe remains of the snow are not fluffy and white
\nbut sad and dull
\nin a last ditch clinging to life
\ndecaying bodies of leaves long abandoned
\nlay limp and soggy
\nnot yet returned to earth
\nyet still I look out the window, in search of beauty
\nand think to myself
\nif I knew anything about photography, I would love just to capture
\nthe glistening drips
\nhanging like diamonds from branches
\nI make a futile attempt, frustrated that my camera won\u2019t hold its focus
\non the small,
\nand instead snaps a larger picture of just branches beyond,
\nthen I get one, slightly smudgy shot that doesn’t quite do them justice
\nresignedly\u00a0 I abandon my pursuit, content instead to just watch
\nthe gathering of
\ndiamonds
\nit is I suppose, that sort of day<\/p>\n
I am not very good at remembering dates on a calendar
\nI cannot tell you most times off the top of my head,
\nhow old my kids are, \u00a0or for that matter, even my own age
\nI don\u2019t know how many years it\u2019s been, or in lineage when something exactly happened
\nI suppose I just don\u2019t focus that much
\non time<\/p>\n
this morning as I read this book, about birds, about life
\nthe author is watching and learning about birds, while also taking her ailing father to hospital appointments
\nand dealing with
\nreality, and sadness
\nand
\nthe inevitability of life\u2019s decline
\nas raindrops begin pelting the window,\u00a0 I pause in this to realize it is February 23rd
\n<\/sup>I think of my own Dad
\nand yes, hospital appointments
\nreality, bone crushing sadness
\nand indeed the inevitability
\nof decline
\nhe died \u2026\u00a0 on February 24th<\/sup> , the sudden and complete devastation of this
\nand how,\u00a0 as I stop to calculate \u2013 it has now been 11 years
\nwow<\/p>\n