But this morning at the early hour of my dog walk, I thought of how subtle the change in the light has been over the course of the last week or so. It is noticeably darker , but not really dark at the time of the walk. The first venture forth in a new day is now met with a dimness of sky, a portend of things to come. A sign of another summer coming to a close. Fewer days of baking, sweating and seeking coolness. Beach chairs, umbrellas, coolers and lemonade will be memories.
Preparation for the fall seem to be getting underway. Back to school sales are in full swing, having started somewhere around July 1 it seems, which is about the time that the retailers start selling down jackets in our turned about calendar.
Of late I have taken to plugging my I Pod into my ears and listening to either music or a book as I walk the dog. I just finished listening to THE SHORT AND TRAGIC LIFE OF ROBERT PEACE, by Jeff Hobbs.
The book is about dreams, or more accurately the failure of dreams. Not the nighttime variety, rather the life time version. It was a terribly disturbing book, one that will stick in my craw for a long time, for it told the account of a life of promise wasted in the worst sort of way. Beyond that I will not go in my description, but I will recommend it. It will infuriate, depress and annoy .
Aspiration, desire, wish, expectation,aim, goal and so on and so on. Hope is life itself if you take the alternative definition of aspiration--the act of breathing, which is akin to inspiration the act of breathing in or as an alternative divine influence in one's life. Gifted to mankind.
The polemicist would argue that being that there is no God, there can be no inspiration, aspiration or Hope. I know them to be wrong. They can argue faiths, religions and dogma with a cogency that is swaying. But for me faith and religion are accidents of birth, proof of a divine influence is not dependent on those. Proof of a divine influence is found in hope and dreams and inspiration.
As I walked I saw the signs of hope. In my neighborhood there is a broad (half mile) earthen dam that forms the boundary of a lake. On top of the earthen dam is a ten foot wide paved walk, spaced along that path are a number of park benches, where one can pause and gaze at the lake. It is a pleasant place and draws many for just that purpose to gaze and think and talk.. But over the years it has become something of a custom for the young people of the area to gather and sit and talk undisturbed by anyone, mostly at this time of year as they .take leave of their well loved friends, perhaps to never see them again. It is these bittersweet gatherings that always give me a heart tug.
This morning I crossed before the sun had risen above the horizon and saw three young women , two on a bench , one sitting on a blanket on the ground. It was clear from the hour that they had spent the night talking. It is a place both very public and yet totally private . The tradition has grown into a late summer act where childhood friends meet to say good bye as they prepare to go off to college. From their ages I knew that this was what they were doing. Their innocence and slight unease as I approached made me feel as if I were an intruder. They began to collect their belongings and pack up as I grew near. I had broken the spell of privacy, for which I did not feel good. Had they spoken of their dreams, of that I am sure. Were their dreams pure and high minded, again of that I am sure. Did they soothe each other in their anxiety over the new and uncertain world away from home, no doubt.
Would their dreams be reality, of that I am not sure, but I can hope for them. I also said a little silent prayer for them because they are just entering a world that can be rather tough. I will be on the lookout for the similar gatherings that will take place in the next couple of weeks before they abruptly come to an end abut labor day. I will be cheered by them and will smile with them and give them my silent fond adieu.
My mood improved greatly after seeing them for hope and dreams are still alive even as I some of mine are never coming to fruition. I hope that they will always have each other to talk them through dark nights. They are the future and our dreams are pegged on theirs.