Few things there be that I enjoy more than the smell of autumn leaves; in all their color, floating slowly down, yet passing by so quickly … right before my very eyes. I especially love picking up a handful and inhaling their earthy fragrance.
Once upon a time it was the season of spring for me. Even now I can feel the joy of running barefoot as a child through the freshly cut grass in the backyard. I can smell the sweet scent of my mother’s very tiny (but gigantically proud) flower garden. I can hear my father’s hearty laughter … at something … it could be anything … as most anything could bring out joyous laughter within him. I can taste my grandmother’s biscuits, fresh out of the oven. (I can even feel the heat from the oven.) And can I see my beloved dog, King, tail held high, prancing ahead of me on a wooded trail up behind the Sunnybrook section of Bristol, where I was blessed to grow up.
Part of that childhood was spent visiting at the foot of the great old oak tree pictured above. Before I even hit double digits in age, I had carved on her trunk, “Ben Talley, Hall of Fame.” Little did I know that I would indeed someday make the Hall of Fame, just not as a baseball player - but as a teacher, instead. (And I am very much glad it turned out as it did.)
The pic above was taken this past week. The great old oak is now in the winter of her life. Indeed, great old trees like this still “live” on, long after they appear to have died, giving life to the forest.
My life’s summer came and went. I know not how it all happened so quickly.
Playing sports. And girls. And beaches. All come to mind. So many girls I fell in love with, it seems. And every one was the girl of my dreams. In an oddly wonderful way, I’m still in love with them all. Love, when real, never really dies. At least it seems that way with me. Some of my friends think it sad that I never had a one true lifetime love, as did they. Instead, I count it life’s highest joy whenever I loved, and was loved, by anyone at anytime in any way. To me, there is no such thing as “lost love”. It was all worthwhile. And still is.
In a different but equally profound way I also loved (and was loved by) my children and grandchildren … and countless thousands of other children … all along the way. And pets. And family. And friends. And the longer I have lived the more I have come to learn to love - in some way - everyone who comes my way.
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