The Vision

In a future far, far away, I am sitting on my porch with a cup of tea looking out at nature. It is the golden hour. It is quiet. I am quiet, at peace. Maybe I hear some birds, some tree rustling, or some such natural activity. The sun is warm, the air cool -- I breathe easily. I’ve been writing, or reading, or drawing -- engaged in a conversation with the world around me -- for a couple hours.

I can see for quite a ways out in front of me, get a sense of the bigness of everywhere and the smallness of my observing self. I find it comforting to be a part of something so vast, and to appreciate it so viscerally. I always have.

I am a mother, a grandmother, an aunt, a sister, a daughter. I hold my now big family closely and dearly -- though at this point maybe not geographically. I hope they visit so that I can see them being and doing, full of joy or lost in thought, and annoy them profoundly with my love.

In the words of Oliver Sacks, "I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers."