Have I ever mentioned that I live close to the railroad tracks? Well, not THAT close. But I hear the train going by at all hours of the day and night, and now that I’m used to it, I find it a comforting sound. When that lonesome whistle blows, distant and plaintive in the dark, I always think of a certain old friend, gone now. It’s like a “Hello”.
I’ve reached that place in my life where the “good-byes” are happening more frequently–and I sure miss my dad. If he were here, he’d say, “Don’t be a sad-sack, Lindy.” He was a great one for celebrating the present moment–friends, family and flowers, that was his motto. He truly celebrated every day of his life.
The air is bright, sunny, and COLD. The horses are already wearing their winter coat, shaggy and thick. Me, I wear a jacket I bought at Wal-mart. It’s warm, and it works in the barn.
The art room is slowly–SLOWLY–coming together. I’m doing collage and polymer clay again, and loving it. My stuff is never going to hang in a gallery or be featured in a coffee-table book, but it feeds my soul, just as the animals do.
It’s a good life. There are some good-byes, but there are plenty of howdies, too.
Put my name down in the column headed “Grateful”.