Something I thought about when rising early this morning to get ready for church. Choir gathers at 8:15 on Sunday mornings, and even when there's no traffic it takes at least 20 minutes from here to there (30 when I figure in a stop to pick up an essential double short latte at Ladro) so I was up in plenty of time to enjoy a sunrise that ranged from orange to coral to rose to every imaginable shade in between.
And that was before the sun was actually visible.
Today we sang Schubert ("Wohin?) and a contemporary setting of a section of the "Song of Solomon" ("Set me as a seal upon your heart - as a seal upon your arm - for love is strong as death") and the two have alternated as my ear worm all day. The simple, lovely, Shaker tune with which we ended the service should be the one that sticks, but I had to work harder to get the tricky parts of the Schubert, and it does not want to let go.
I love the Song of Solomon setting, though I'm not sure I agree with its sentiment. Love IS strong, and it does go on well past death. My beloved ghosts float just out there, ready to gather round whenever I'm open to a visit (and sometimes just because THEY insist on being heard.) I go with Hemingway, who said, "No one you love is ever dead."
Terrestrial life continues. The ghosts remain in place.
For a year or so after my husband died, I used to imagine catching him up on everything that had happened since. Eventually things shift so drastically that no summary is possible.
This fall the leaves are brilliant. I think it's because of our long dry summer, and some cold nights during an essentially dry fall. Even the leaves fallen onto the street are exceptionally colorful.
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