I am sitting on a windowsill looking out over snowing Lake Tahoe. I hear my kids and my husband getting ready for a day of skiing and hanging out with friends.
I will be left alone in the rambling ski house of my wonderful Mother and Father-in-law.
Tom and Will are skiing in the adaptive ski program. Kyle will wait for his friends at yet another ski resort and then spend New Years Eve with them.
I will wait for Tom and Will to return and then have a 6:30PM dinner tonight celebrating New Years Eve.
I am starting to feel old. Real old.
When I was 16-years-old I wrote a poem. I just remembered it. How fitting!
“I am a piece of seaweed lying on a desolate beach
For the tide to take me to a new beginning and a new end.”
What was I thinking all those years ago. It seems so apt for this particular moment in time.
So I write. And wait. And wonder where the tide will take me. Am I too old for new beginnings? Should I just be waiting for the same old end?