Waiting

6:55 am, August 20, 2026, 60 degrees, sitting in a breath of dawn air, in my rocking chair, waiting. I am waiting for the sun to shine on a sunflower in our home garden, and at 71, waiting for death too, not in a morbid mood kind of way, just waiting in the reality of death coming as sure as the sun is rising, yet still breathing every breath of life with joy. I am still looking forward to the all the life to come, enjoying each bloom of a new flower, each bee or butterfly that visits, each new snowflake falling, each songbird calling, and my grandchildren’s laughs and knowing there are still more trails to follow, more wilds to wander, more wilderness miles, more snows to set my face into, more smiles. So, this morning as I rock back and forth in my chair, pondering my life’s path ahead, how I choose to embrace it, choose to face it, is to measure life not in years and especially not in remembered blunders, but to try to revel, as much as I am able, in being alive and immerse myself in its still endless life wonders.