Until yesterday, or was it the day before, I counted
time as an endless stream of sunny beach days and
silken sheet nights. Shear curtains tossed by a soft
easterly breeze could not discourage the fragrance
of lilacs blooming just below the bedroom window.
Today, though, I am puzzled by words in the morning
paper that have lost their crisp, clean edges, and golden
leaves on the maple tree now muted into a faded yellow
memory. It is really no surprise, just a corner that I
prefer not to turn.
Life is rarely a straight, smooth road, but a series of
intersections, each an invitation for choice.
Life evolves.