Until Later

It’s rainy and cold. Probably not for my Canadian friends but 40° is cold for this California girl so, for this post, it is cold. The drops are big, fat, squishy and coming down fast. A car goes past me as I sit here in my little refuge. It’s rare that I see a car since I am usually gone by 7am but I slept in a bit and at 9am the car passes. It’s a standard issue Subaru which is the Portland car of choice. There must be 3 for every other model. 

The car stops, maybe 150 yards away, three people get out, each with their own umbrella, slowly, separately, they walk to their destination. It’s not far. As they reach the place that is calling their hearts, they stand still, but even in their stillness they are drawn together like magnets, edging closer and closer to each other until they look like a single entity, sheltering under their paltry protection. Are they seeking a barrier from the cold or is it deeper than that? Will the close proximity ease the pain of saying goodbye? There they stand, with their own private emotions, staring at the ground and asking it to bring them comfort. 

Ten minutes past, a very long time considering the weather, and they head back to their car. A taller man helps a tiny woman into her seat, shaking the rain off the umbrellas, he climbs into the backseat himself. They pass me as they drive away and I resist the urge to look at them, to put faces to the scene I just witnessed.

I’m not a voyeur. I don’t take pleasure from other peoples distress. It’s life and emotion and survival that stirs me. My heart thanks that soldier for his or her service to this country that is so confused. I hope they lived life to the fullest and left this world a slightly better place. I wish the family grief since true grief comes from being separated from someone who was loved. 

Grief is a small price to pay for a lifetime, or even a short time, of true love.