Change is. Like the weather, moments are ever-changing, evolving, not static things the way our recollections sometimes make them seem. They are not that snapshot in our memory, somehow more lasting than the moment itself could ever be. This morning the weather reminds me that change is, and that moments are brief, and impermanent. After yesterday’s warm sunny day, this morning’s chill feels unexpected. The mist clinging to the meadow and the edges of the marsh is a surprise. The morning begins with sunshine, but already it looks like it may rain – quite soon.

I have no particular concerns over the weather, although I didn’t think I’d need my rain gear and didn’t grab it for the walk. I may come to regret that decision. For now, sitting at a favorite spot along the trail watching the sky turning dark and stormy, I’m content to watch and wonder and just be. Moments are what they are, and like rain showers, they will pass on by. I can wait them out, walk on, or find joy in them. Choices. One choice I just don’t have is a choice to halt change or stop the flow of time. Moments will come and go, without regard to the sort of moments they happen to be.

I sigh to myself. I am fine with this moment just as it is. I am rested and my pain is well-managed. The trail is not crowded, and it feels like I have it to myself although the parking lot had several cars in it when I arrived. I sit with my thoughts.

The day ahead is housework and laundry, and a bit of gardening, a pretty typical Sunday. I have a short grocery list – ingredients for dinner. My Traveling Partner is making dinner tonight, and I am eager to be helpful not only because I’m happy to see this positive milestone in his continuing recovery from injury,  but also because he’s an excellent cook and I enjoy what he brings to the table any time he’s in the kitchen.

I think about the housekeeping that really needs doing and remind myself that working from home reliably a couple days a week now also means some tasks can be put off to those days quite easily without adverse outcomes. Maybe do the laundry Tuesday? It’s a relief to be as focused on not exhausting myself as I am on getting things done. That six months of intense, sometimes round the clock, caregiving following my beloved’s surgery wasn’t just exhausting, it was emotionally trying and I often felt completely inadequate. I still find myself coping with that experience, even though it’s behind me, and hasn’t been a thing for months. I still feel the treadmill of endless tasks and too little capability under my feet, emotionally, and it’s taking practice and will and mindful presence to let that go. That moment has passed. I sigh again, feeling the intensity of my relief wash over me.

I hear footsteps coming up the trail slowly. I look up and see deer stepping along gently. They pause, watching me. A trio. A young buck and two does. I wonder if they have new fawns? I don’t see any. I consider taking their picture as they slowly approach me on the path, but when I move ever so slightly, they stop, stiff, alert, and wary. I relax and just watch them. When they get closer, I turn my head away, hoping to communicate that they’re no concern of mine, and that I am not a threat. The larger doe approaches very near me. There’s something tasty growing near my feet apparently, and she’s willing to take a chance on approaching quite closely. I could reach out and touch her, but don’t want to risk starting her. I let her breakfast in peace, and just sit quite still.

Voices coming up the trail get my attention. I look up, as the deer do. The deer bolt, and trot off into the trees. I sit where I am, and when people emerge around the bend in the trail I wave and nod. They are no concern of mine, and they walk on past.

Moments don’t last. Sunny afternoons may be followed by rainy mornings. Threats may emerge in one moment, and disappear in the next. Tears dry. Trauma heals. The clock ticks on.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I get to my feet and look up the trail. The future is ahead of me, and this path won’t walk itself. It’s a good moment to begin again.