Fall Colors in the Rockies © 2013 by Pat Ruppel
Time to give, time to be grateful, time to reflect ― it’s almost Thanksgiving in the U.S. and, like most, we’re busy planning and preparing. But, this year will be a quiet celebration for hubby and me. We’ll be hanging around home eating, watching football games and old Hallmark movies ― just the two of us.
Sounds traditional, but not really, I can already feel the closeness of home and energy of gratitude. I cherish these times together and remember it was just last year when hubby took ill suddenly and was in and out of the hospital a couple of times between Christmas and New Year’s.
It’s hard to believe the holidays are upon us and another year’s end is rounding the corner. I guess when you’re in your golden years, time really does seem to go faster.
I’ve always pictured it as chugging up the hill the first half of your life until you reach the top. Then, the 2nd half of your life you’re flying down the other side. But, on the way down, it’s different. What you may have missed on the way up becomes more significant on the way down and precious. You try to hold on as if it’s the last chance you’ll ever see it like that again.
Perhaps, it is like John Koenig says in “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows” and portrays in the video “Avenoir” (the desire that memory could flow backwards):
“We take it for granted that life moves forward. But you move as a rower moves, facing backwards: you can see where you’ve been, but not where you’re going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of you. It’s hard not to wonder what life would be like facing the other way…”
No matter which way we go through life, facing forward or backwards, I don’t want to miss it and the upcoming holidays speak loudly of that. It’s too precious and these special times won’t come around again in exactly the same way.
I hope this Thanksgiving finds you surrounded with love and blessed with the laughter of family and friends. Take time to hug more with a pause to give thanks in the moments of happiness.
Pat from the ol’ kitchen table