Twenty Ten. The dawn of a new year, a new decade, a new opportunity. Hopes and dreams, new ideas, wishes, plans, desires, anticipation, trepidation and a little hesitation. New steps to be taken toward something that will make a difference.
The first day of the new year brought me and my family to a visit to my father in the hospital. Unexpected, always unnerving, but with the hope that all will be well. It's always difficult to see your parent as smaller, less powerful, less protective of you. My parents will always be young to me, no matter their age. Today was a reminder of how much I love them.
On the way to visit my father I saw something that has captured me today and will not leave me. Riding in the car on the way to the hospital, we passed a local cemetery. As I glanced out the window, I saw a lone figure standing in the cold. Picture this: a red pickup truck parked next to a grave site, a man wearing jeans, a gold jacket and a tousle cap, standing with his back to me, hands folded in front of him, standing strong and tall. This picture was so clear against the white snow, no one but him in that sad place. I wanted to paint it. I wished I could hear his thoughts, see his face. I thought about whom he might be speaking to but felt more sorrow for him, standing in the cold, speaking to a loved one, paying respect to a life lost.
This one brief glimmer solidified for me the belief that life is short, that it should be lived to the fullest and with great respect and joy. No new age philosophy here, just simple fact. Go forward, take on whatever comes at you fearlessly and LIVE.