Tuesday, August 23, 2016
Summer is gone, taking with it the minions and their lovely parents. Other people's children head off to school looking scrubbed and spit-shined in their new finery. Mine hang about waiting for employment apples to fall into their laps while they sample what the Internet has to offer in the way of never-ending magic windows.
The Olympics are over with their fanfare and drama, leaving only endless piles of weeds and the slightest lessening of temperature in the air.
The years slip by on greased skids, now, catching only on small moments in holidays and illnesses and trips to see family. Children sprout up into weeds or flowers, depending on with what they were watered and whether they had enough light.
It seems so somnolent until one thinks about the very near future--which looks ever bleaker. History tells us change of an alarming sort is just in the offing. Like the actors in a horror movie, we yell, "LOOK UP!" But they, and we, seldom do.
I wonder if my grandchildren will send their children off to school looking scrubbed in their new clothes, bright smiles on their little faces. Will there still be Olympics? Will there be journeys to other parts of the world to sample and immerse one's self in other lives? I'm certain there will still be weeds. But will they be our weeds? Or everybody's? Will we still have beloved pets and cranky cars and mortgages?
I know that there is at least one Person who cares about what we feel and do and know. He'll be there long after The End of Everything. He'll be waiting with open arms and a heart full of love. That's a comforting thought.