The Lasts

I saw the most beautiful expanse of grass and trees the other day as we were driving to the doctor, a view not usually seen in these parts at this time.  Sure, England does Autumn, but not quite to the same extent that Ontario does.  There's something rustic and old-fashioned that this side of the pond, as hard as it tries, has never really captured.  That said, the green was so vibrant (and grass still so lush), the trees were turning, some had turned, leaves fallen to the ground, casting a crunchy blanket over the pavement.  The sun was cascading through the foliage with such a bright ferocity, it was hard to believe this is mid-October.  






I started to think about lasts.  What if this was the last autumn?  What if this was the last time you'd see the magnificent changing of the leaves from crisp green to warm yellow and fiery red?  What if that glimmer of sunshine, turning the sky that magnificent September blue, was the last you'd see, as it would be gloomy all the rest of your days?  What if that sound, that blessed sound, of leaves crunching underfoot were the last steps of their kind?  What if you couldn't walk in your boots again?  What if these were the last hours spent outside?  

What if that swim in the lake that you begrudged was the last time you'd dip into Northern waters?  What if that was the last time you'd be on a boat ever again?  What if the summer you hated hauling out that bather was the last time you'd don a swim suit?  What if this was your last July? 

What if that was the last time you'd see so-and-so?  Last time you'd talk to them on the phone, last time you'd feel how strong they were when they hugged you goodbye?  What if you'd never sleep beside the person you cuddle into at night?  And you know that feeling, that feeling you get when the day is long and cold, your toes are numb, and you've forgotten your umbrella?  That hopeless feeling that leaves you thinking that perhaps THIS is the worst day yet?  No, not that feeling...the feeling that overwhelms you at exactly that moment when you remember the person waiting for you at home: the one who has the heat on, the dinner warm, and that face...oh that face.  What if the heat was off, dinner wasn't made, and that face...oh that face, wasn't there? 

This isn't a plea to carpe the diem.  It was really a simple observation of the beauty around me that made me grateful for the moment.  I suppose as long as we stay thankful for what's around, who is around, and what remarkable experiences have brought us to this exact place, we'll constantly remain present, and enjoy all the now as if it was the last.  

Have a great weekend.

First image is mine from Salzburg and the second, from Maple Lake this summer.