Letters From Home (4)

Dear Zoe,

Mornings are a lot darker lately as we head toward November. Now I’m looking at stars and planets and listening to owls and crickets at 6 am when just a few weeks ago (or so it seems to me) it was all sunrises and mockingbirds.

The other morning I was looking out across the front yard, pretending to see deep into the dark, listening more than seeing, really, when I noticed the little light I had from last-quarter moon suddenly dim. It was a bit disconcerting for a second until I realized that it happened because of a cloud passing between the moon and me. That’s a common occurrence, and except for an obvious cooling when it occurs during the daytime, it goes pretty much unnoticed. It surprised me more the other morning more because I didn’t ever remember experiencing that nighttime dimming-light sensation ever before! (Where have I been??)

I stood then and watched those clouds and the change in the moonlight as the clouds passed in front of the moon. The clouds changed from dark obscuring masses to silver edged amorphous halos to back-lit gossamers of mist. I thought of your mom then,and of when she and I would watch the clouds so many afternoons. Autumn days were always my favorites, the warm sun was more appreciated when it reappeared from behind the clouds! There were so many days steeped in our own imaginations. We learned the value of silence earlier then than people learn it now. We learned that our silence opened our ears to the world’s voice, from buzz of a honey bee working on clover to baby-cry of the screech owl on it’s perch.

It took time to stop long enough to see the clouds boiling above us, it took time to feel the light as it faded in the moonlight, and I suppose that it will take time before I become aware of the next revelation. Well, it’s only time.

Missing you so much.

love,

Uncle Roy