Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Often mom and I take about town and do a little lunch somewhere.Mom is in her mid seventies and is as agile and up right as a 40 year old woman on a mission to remind me to stop and inspect the small things in life, hence the surmountable nature in this robust, green, BC, valley. Today we had lunch at Timmy's. Sometimes we'll take lunch up to the lake but today we opted to wait no more and take morning coffee to the lake instead.
It had been a month or so since mom and I went on a long, meandering walk anywhere, well, since I started working full time. I miss her. She misses me. Our walks mean more than anyone would know.So...the pull for that walk in the weeks filled with stress was the antidote, especially shared breathing in the mountain air with her.
With our hot coffees in hand we left the small parking lot facing the lake and took for the path along the lake, passing the many summer and year-round homes and cottages.
The mountains that hug the lake had been dusted with snow and the lake itself was calm and cold looking. The wintery clouds that loomed were too high for snow, yet, though we could feel the moisture in the air and the scent of snow.
Nearing the end of the path we took to walk up and behind the cottages to another row of homes along a long narrow road. Many of those homes are new, empowering what money can buy. All that was old and summery and simple has been vanishing to the modern style of living. That said, mom and I sauntered past at least two new homes with workers clacking away.I suppose winter doesn't even stop what money can buy.
Other than the odd worker in this small lakeside community there was little movement from others. Mom and I could see more and more wintering up there but, the other half wouldn't be present until summer, which, hm...makes for the lake walk a calm and serene one with the lake to yourself.
Mom and I passed a couple walking their dog; a common occurrence up there, as is the friendly greeting to one another. Small communities boast the most friendly people sometimes.
As mom and I neared the end of the road we saw a mother with two daughter's ahead, delivering newspapers to the sleepy houses. Mom was deep in conversation all the while we passed the little girl that looked up at me with newspaper in hand and headed to someones door.My mind wandered from mom's conversation for a moment as I studied the little girl, thoughtfully. She had long blonde hair that waved down her back and lay against a blue jacket she wore.Her skin porcine and eyes of blue.For a moment I saw the world in her eyes small, simply, and innocent.It was then when I gauged her age to be about seven, the age of the twenty children that grew angel wings in Connecticut.
My mind then instantly went to that dark place of morbid that no one wants to go, though, it does. In an instant I shook my head and minds eye and the little girl was gone, since passed and was caught up with her mom down the road. It was then when I heard my own mother talking and the end of the road opening to the small parking lot. I was jolted back to the present, thinking of how much the many of us have changed;pulling up our guard, and growing an undeniable protection for every little child we see, from now and forever~