Summer ends . . . transience

Dear You:

Sharing the work of Andrew Ross, something from his portfolio, Transience -


I am/you are the person at mid-crossing.  This literal intersection is the site of movement, beginning here and ending there.  And notice the shadows.  They are fleeting, as the sun moves.  Those images last only in artistic records, like Mr. Ross's.

This summer's story, like a film montage, contained classic transient events/experiences:
1.  Mom died, after a tough winter and spring.  Just like that, she is gone, like Dad. Goodbye.
2.  At the same time, both of the boy cats disappeared. Vanished. Goodbye.
3.  The beach home I live in will no longer be home this time next year.  Goodbye.
4.  My favorite wild pine tree, perhaps tainted by thoughtless neighbor's "weed spray", is turning brown and fading away. Goodbye.
5.  Hurricane Harvey continues to batter residents on the west Gulf Coast and Texas and Louisiana with rain rain rain.  Floods erasing places.  Goodbye.

However, today IS.  I am still alive.  Another mysterious and sweet cat (I named her VEVO, Spanish for "lively") has appeared to keep me company.  I will throw myself into the Gulf and enjoy a dolphin-like swim this afternoon and other afternoons this year.  I cannot save the pine tree now or stop the record-breaking rains.  And those facts would be easy to accept if I could just learn that life is transience.  That is the normal state of things, like "flux" or "flex" or whatever I blogged about months ago.  Apparently, my problem with transience is my only non-transient . . . situation.

So, summer ends again.  Happy voyage to Mom and boy cats and pine tree and all of our temporary homes.  The remedy for now is to simply be.  Get plenty of sleep . . . and don't get too deep.

And, on a lighter note, find a way to get the hell out of my stupid JCPenney retail "job"!! 💃
Oh the places we end up, wondering "how did I get here?"

XO
Joyce