What do we build in our lives? A bridge? A fence? A pathway? Often I feel as if I am building a fortress, stacked high with unreturned phone calls, missed opportunities, fear. Time alone. The fortress, under the steel grey sky against which we seek a ray of light. The streets are cold and damp, yet one comes upon a towering pine. Life, in its soft greeness, seems a gift, a blessing. In the greyness of the sky there still contains a hope. A hope of some fulfillment in this life.

Always looking for something

Should we accommodate our fears or fight them? Are people really changeable? That boulder in your life-do you move it or lean on it?

Where are our comforts in life? Not the sofa kind, the soul comforts. We take care of so many, and then there is us. We walk alone. Ultimately.

The tree stands outside, devoid of opinion, and yet we give it one. We give it a feeling. In winter it stands for loneliness, for a world bereft of that comfort we want, it shivers in its bareness and not even the bird will give it solace. But come back in the spring. It will have warmth and joy, and the birds will make their home there. And yet it is the same tree. So different now.

We look for someone to make memories with.