A Different Christmas



A Different Christmas
I found it difficult, the wait, to get back to my sister’s home on Lake Michigan, Hype Park, to be exact.  Before the tragedy, I would awaken before daybreak, carefree, boil water for tea, and position myself to embrace the mind blowing expanse of the Lake.  I would sit for hours, decompressing from days, maybe months of stress.
Some two years later, the terrain has changed.  The Lake’s ebb and tide predominate. White-capped, the waters come together with a precision that reaches their zenith and segue toward shore, the water still a grayish, mauvish color that defies description, tugging silently backward to its base.  Nuances heighten a distinctive difference, not in the Lake that is older than the State through which it flows, but in me.
I do not see the Lake the way I did two years ago.  Yes, the window’s vantage point differs from that year’s location, situated now on a  different floor and direction. Yes, I heard more of the surf’s roar one floor up then than I do today.  And yes, this Unit faces east rather than west.
Yet, the change is palpable, one that neither season nor sensitivity can mask.
Thank You, Jesus






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