This one just sort of happened....

Provided that I don't fall victim to this illness, I would love to experience the freedom of that day. Once, when I had thought better of it, I decided not to attend that event, thus limiting myself to my room. He was grateful for my decision, experiencing the event for himself without my assistance. If I were to tell him before I did, however, he would have resented the communication and found a way to undermine me. don't worry though, I timed it precisely so as not to create any conflict in my relationship with him. Rather, I feel we are now stronger due to my judgement. When he returned, he spoke of how wonderful it all was. He described each crevice, each sound, smell, sight. He smiled, laughed, gestured to the wide scope of the event. his eyes glistened with joy and childhood. Then as his dramatic telling of the even t grew to a close, he placed a small trinket in my hand. It was smooth and beautiful and I cupped it between my fingers. It was a small porcelain tea cup, white with blue designs across its sides. He explained to me it had arrived from china, specifically for the event. He knew I didn't like Chinese products, but also like me, he saw the pure beauty in the small tea cup. His dramatic recalling of the vendor he had bought from made me smile and as he hobbled around, mimicking the old, frail woman, I couldn't help but laugh. Having received his precious gift, both the tea cup and the story, I explained to him how I myself had a gift for him. His smile lit up with curiosity. Taking his hand in mine, I drew him into the kitchen and proudly displayed my creation. A beautifully crisp and deliciously browned apple pie sat on the stove, still warm from the oven. With a hearty laugh, he drew me close to his body in the way of a hug only he could give. He whispered happy words into my ear, making me giggle with joy. When finally he released me, I placed the small tea cup on the window seal above the oven and took the pie to the table. I used the knives he gave me for Christmas to slice the apple pie into small triangles. He got the two plates, two glasses of milk, and the forks, all with a genuine smile. With the soft vanilla ice cream melting on the warm pie, we ate together, sitting on the porch, watching the sun set. Gently he held my hand and spoke of all his dreams and ambitions. Once, when a long gentle silence lingered between us, he dropped his hand from mine and in his gentle, loving voice, informed me that he was leaving me. And that was the last time I saw him.

The Changing Aspen

I watched the Aspen tree outside my room this morning.

Its delicate yellowing leaves hung gently from its branches.

It seemed to be at peace, absorbing the slight sun that snuck through the clouds.

When a gush of wind rushed through the courtyard and whirled around the precious vines of this beautiful tree, it bent in agony.

Soon, the weaker of the leaves released their grasp from the tree and floated on the wind.

They whirled around the tree like dancing fairies, all lit up from an inner beauty.

I thought about this tree, so useless in controlling the fading of its leaves, and the loosening of its grip on summer.

I thought of the time that moves, with no one's permission.

Whirling, twirling around us like a loose scarf in the wind.

I wanted to protect the tree.

I wanted to stop the time from changing the precious branches into barren sticks.

A fear crept into my body as I watched leaf after leaf fall to the ground, completely disconnected from the life it had known.

I thought how I tried to stop the time in my life.

To avoid the unknown of the future, by protecting what I could.

But just like the Aspen tree, time still passes me by, changing who I thought I was, and taking away the leaves I had grown so fond of.

Then wind calmed, and a gentle pour of rain dripped onto the tree.

The rain gave the remaining, stronger leaves a bright new color.

Now the tree has rid itself of the weak, discolored leaves and is left with only the most powerful, vibrant ones.

And again, I thought of myself.

Could it be that time is meant to pass, for the mere purpose of making us stronger, more beautiful as we go along?

Now the wind doesn't appear to be such a foe.

The wind is restoring, loving, and precise.

It takes only what is not needed, and leaves the strongest to stay.

Don't be afraid of the wind of change, let it move you, shape you, and make you better.