October is nearly over. It is the season of harvest and dying in the great wheel of the year. And with it comes the second anniversary of my mother's death, on Oct. 30.
I wrote about events of 2005 in this post -- and in this -- leading to the final moments of her life. It wasn't for another five months that I could talk about her death -- and that of her beloved brother Tom.
Last year brought this remembrance.
Another year makes a lot of difference. Time has seasoned my grief and it is not so fresh, so very raw and harsh as it was.
I'm still two days from it, but I already know I'll be with my circle of girlfriends, my Cowgirls, and that always helps me, often in ways I couldn't have predicted. The collective energy and support in that small circle is a gift that sustains and supports each of us, even in our most hermit-y of moments. I'm grateful for that gift of friendship.
And friendships are uppermost in my mind this fall as last night I thanked Lady Moon again for her gifts and illumination. We spent yesterday and today with another circle of friends -- neighbors and others who have found commonalities and friendships together, all of us around the same age, all of us who have moved here from other places seeking more from life than we had where we'd lived and worked previously, and -- I believe -- each has found joy and satisfaction and pleasure in living here and finding new activities and friendships. Our circumstances are all a little different, but we all make the most of what we have right now, in this moment.
It's a seasoning of gratitude and friendship. That makes the [incredibly delicious] food we share taste better, the laughter heartier and joyous, the stories we swap more interesting and relevant. Caring for each other as we do lets each of us know that we have friends who will help and support us whenever we ask -- and often when we don't -- without expecting anything. What a marvelous gift! What a treasure to be cherished!
Fall colors are brighter than I'd expected, given the dry winter and spring we had, and the reds and yellows and oranges punctuate the hills surrounding us and line the town's streets. The green undergrowth still encroaches on the dried brown, beaten grasses -- although we need rain again -- and the colors are a welcome seasoning to that golden California summer landscape.
I'm grateful for season-ings that add so much to our lives here, happy to see another fall, to look towards another birthday (okay, so it's taking a bit to wrap our collective arms around that decade idea here, but we're working on it). Tonight, we're especially grateful for friendships and to be in this wonderful place, right here, right now.