The Mail Boxes – II

Almost a full year has passed since last I was where I now sit: resting upon the bridge just below the mailboxes. It is close to sunset as I write. The moon is waxing past 3rd quarter, and the stream still flows strong beneath the bridge.

In fact, everything is pretty much the way it is supposed to be — always moving and changing, yet remaining basically the same as all the cycles interact with each other.

Cycles. It seams I’ve just completed another one. Having returned to my home here at Green Cove, time has now come to leave yet again. Though at this point, I feel less a sense of parting than a feeling of continuity.

I know not when I will return to these trees and streams, but I do know that they will endure without me, and that I am always welcome here. As the cycles of my life continue to unfold, this humble section of forest will continue to be a touchstone throughout my travels — serving as a warm and friendly environment where I am free to learn, experiment, love, and grow.

While writing, I am passed by a woman on foot who smiles and says "I see you haven’t quite left yet." Indeed — in some ways, I never will.

Mail Boxes – I

Copyright (C), 1998, by Ashley Guberman

Speak Your Mind