Thoughts from a bench

 

There were no border guards when we crossed over into Florida.  Michigan had grown so small in our rearview mirror that it had completely disappeared.  So, with no snow left on our tires and the frost completely gone from our windshield the grimace on our faces melted into smiles and we rolled into our new lives, breathing warm summer air.  Life for us would now begin.

Over time, new friends gathered, each with northern tales of woe and memories of days now gone.  As time went on, we became accustomed to the warmer climate and slower pace.  We had successfully made the transition.  No longer considered Snowbirds, we had been accepted and finally felt at peace.  The threat of winter no longer would send shivers of cold and fear of isolation through us.  We were free to walk out of our houses without bundles of clothing restricting our movements, and without feeling the sting of bitter cold in our lungs.

With the passing of time, the newness of palm trees and tropical breezes blended into a sameness, and calendar pages were now turning more quickly than before.  We felt more like spectators than participants in life.  Our memories of Michigan somehow grew warmer while old friends seemed even more distant.  They had become a part of history that we may have read about years ago.

It is in the quiet time, sitting on the bench by the lake, that I consider our next transition.  Entering conversations with strangers, gathering for scheduled meals and glancing at the calendar, knowing only a few pages remain.  Have I done all I could?  Did I make a difference for the good and what do I leave behind?

I smile, knowing The Pantry, with its variety of stories will find it’s way to those readers looking for some spark of adventure, some tiny bit of humor to brighten their day, and maybe nudge them to create stories of their own.

 

 

Sure, some of you have seen through my evil plot.  Okay, fine.  This is just a sneaky way to advertise my book.  But hey, if I don't do it - who will?