The year is 2010. The month is September, the day is the 21st and the hour is 3:37am.
In this year, upon this day of the month, it is the autumn equinox and the Harvest Moon is setting in a clear night sky, the stars of the Big Dipper barely noticeable by the moon’s full evening light.
During this time of year, summer’s harvests have come to an end and the change of seasons has begun again. Early morning fog is beginning to collect and rise from Lake Wyola and the first frost of the year can be smelled within the winds that dance with the fog along the waters of the lake.
During this time of year, transitions abound. School begins as summer’s heat recedes, vacationers return to their warmer climates, and the lake becomes quiet and still, the reflection of the moon’s full light has the chance to shine bright and still against her waters once again and time passes on into the next cycle of life.
During this time of year, I am in transition. My body, my soul, my very being becomes pushed and pulled in so many directions that moments of quiet contemplation become rare and if I am not careful I will fall to the ground and let the first frosts hold me within their stillness into the change of the next season.
During this time of year, I am the one who holds all of these things together. My body, my soul, my very being becomes full and laden with summer’s harvests and as I ride the waves of the changing waters, so frequent that movement from one to the next cannot be seen by the casual observer, I am also aware that I am the one who rescues those who are in need. I am the one to carry them to a calm shore, allowing them to rest a moment before they plunge back into the waves. I am the one who brings them warm drinks and sits with them beneath a blanket, attempting to create a sense of peace before they take off on their next adventure. I am the one who saves them from drowning, but who will save me?
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