She walked alone, on a dusty dirt road, lined with tall brown grass and thorny bushes. Hands in her pockets, head down, eyes looking into her past. Silence hung in the air like smoke from a distant wildfire. For the first time in her life she felt lonely. Most of the people in her life had moved on, changed lanes on the freeway of life and taken exits to places she’d never see. Part of her felt like an empty walnut shell, cracked open, exposed, the juicy meat consumed, the sharp-edged shell thoughtlessly tossed out the window without a care.

Old man winter had acquitted himself admirably this year. He jumped in early, dosing us with snow in October and sharing with us just about everything in his wheelhouse, save maybe freezing rain.

Gathered around our Thanksgiving table this year were two of our three sons, two of our three grandchildren and, of course, one daughter-in-law, my husband, and myself. Not a large grouping but our family’s typical one. The best dishes and glassware were on display, glad to get out of the cupboard and see the light of day again.

I feel I’ve been made privy to a secret. Summer is ending and today just might be its last hurrah. There is a hush outside. It’s as if all of nature wants to linger in the ease, the joy, the glory of one more summer day as much as I do.

I pulled my van into a favorite spot; the parking lot of a nearby church. I come here often to read or write or just to get out of the house.

            Waves rumbled and crashed at the shoreline. Birds like silent gliders rode the air currents above, squawking loudly. The shell-studded sand stretched before me littered with treasures the sea had given up. I walked among and around them, too caught up in my mental preoccupation to notice their unique beauty.             I’d walked for…