The day is cold, the wind brisk and the
sun wan on this late October day.
On a park bench sits a young mother
her child upright in a baby carriage
snug in a snowsuit, a blanket bundled
about him. Alert to my presence he
watches intently as I speak with his
mother. I was once that mother, happy
to take my children out to natural
surroundings and the elements, a vital
component of valued exposure to the
things that matter in life. Later I watch
as a young man and woman walk in slow
measured pace behind a little boy his
legs pumping a tiny bicycle and I recall
my father teaching me on a tricycle to
venture forth, undaunted. Later still people
walk by on the street barely glancing at
an old woman planting flower bulbs in
her garden, busily discounting winter and
anticipating spring. That old woman who
negates the inevitability of winter is me.
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