At this most peculiar moment in time when the sky is indeed falling, I am best comforted by some of the small, tender mercies of my life:
The crisp tart-sweet taste of an apple from the basket given to me by a neighbor yesterday, a bit of a Sabbath blessing. The gesture is doubly sweet — and tart — because her son is dying, yet she took time to pick and deliver them to me, and thanked me for the opportunity to share.
The red and gold still visible in the foothills this late in the season. Our fall colors are usually nearly gone by now, but some quirk in this year’s precipitation made them linger. As my Buddhist friend once observed, “Autumn is my surest evidence that dying can be beautiful.”
The beautiful, alert face and bright eyes of my granddaughter, who I admire every time I pick up my iPhone. She’s the wallpaper. Hello, precious. I hope that, with patience and lots of love, we can outfit you for what’s ahead.
The riotous splendor of the flower beds at work and in my pots at home. Having survived the worst of the summer’s heat, they are frantically blooming, as if they know of the cold ahead. I’ll soon repot the geraniums and bring them inside, where they’ll continue blooming all winter in my south-facing kitchen window. It’s one of my favorite autumn rituals, because it captures and keeps a bit of the summer’s splendor.
Emily Dickenson’s “certain slant of light” that, as it continues south, moves over my kitchen and bedroom, illuminating the dust motes and dappling the quilts and tabletops. It won’t reach the “cathedral tunes” stage for a few months, so it is merely melancholy.
A phone call from my husband, and another from a friend, just to check in. Am I all right?
So I’m checking in. Are you all right? I hope you have a tender mercy or two to tide you over right now.
September 30, 2008 at 7:53 pm
Beautiful words can indeed soothe the soul. Great post!