All the young calves spent a care free summer. They roamed the pastures, grazed, lay in the sun or under a shady tree, drank from the endless fountain of Mama’s milk. They strolled along, ran or jumped whenever it pleased them. They frolicked with others their age, playfully bumping heads, swishing their tails to keep summer’s annoying pests at bay, had a snooze in the sun if they pleased or slept the nights away under the starry sky. This would not last forever separated from their Mama’s now, they’ve bawled for days. Calling desperately to return to the pleasures they knew. To the care free days of summer which felt like they would never end. In the enjoyment of their surroundings and with whom they spent their days and nights. The Mama’s know better than to spend too much time bawling for what once was. They seem sad, but only for a short time. They turn away and go and face another day with life without the one they knew for only a short time. They all look sad things have come to an end. On the long hot days the lake and its shoreline was a place of enjoyment. Strolling along the water’s edge finding small treasures, feeling the warm breeze gliding over the sun drenched skin, jumping into the water and cooling off or moving along in a watercraft , hearing only the sound of the paddle making its gentle splash. Such serenity in those days. There are no more canoe rides to have now, no warm breeze, no waves splashing gently upon the shore. It’s cold here now. The lake is frozen and still. The icy breeze cuts at any uncovered skin. The wind whips up the snow into swirls and makes it dance across the frigid landscape. As time moves along, the calves’ bawling will subside as they give up on what once was. Adjusting to the new reality that summer is gone and so are the pleasures it held. Quietness will abound. So too, we all must adjust. The people we saw in summer are gone. There is more darkness than light, more cold than warmth and more time inside than out. When I close my eyes I can hear the waves rolling on shore, feel the warm winds of summer blowing, see the sun high in the sky and remember its heat on my skin. For now the quietness of winters’ days are here. Memories of the summer past bring the assurance that all things will be bright and beautiful again.
Posted on: Sat, 16 Nov 2013 22:17:12 +0000
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