Twilight Reflections:
The cabin's nicer than it's ever been -
more like a cottage than in days of yore,
and grander sunsets I have never seen
than those I've witnessed from Superior's shore.
Tonight her waves are pummeling the beach,
roiled by a wind that punishes the trees.
The windows shudder as wild branches reach -
chased by the bluster of a pompous breeze.
Before dusk I assessed our plot of sand,
which changes as the water ebbs and flows -
for over time I've learned to understand
the greatest of the Great Lakes has her lows.
This year she is retreating from our bay,
and doomsayers predict a shrinking lake.
(I hope that doesn't happen in my day,
and that this dire prediction's a mistake.)
But right now as I focus on the sun
and on the crimson hue her sinking casts,
comes fleeting thought just as this day is done:
Take time to notice beauty while it lasts.
A bit of revelation in twilight,
on this first evening of my summer break.
This gentle thought resigning me to night:
Fresh beauty will await me when I wake.
by Sharon Flood Kasenberg, August 21, 2007
It's been almost eight years since that particular sunset over Lake Superior inspired my poetic reflections, and a lot has happened.
For several years we Kasenbergs journeyed to the Flood family cabin thirty minutes out of my hometown of Sault Ste. Marie the last week in August. Our first couple of forays back to Northern Ontario at that time of year should have been enough to teach us that we could expect weather that felt more autumn than summer, but we doggedly persisted in booking the same time slot. None of us are passionate about swimming in Lake Superior, and I enjoyed my walks along a quieter beach. The cabin was a big part of my family's history, and when it was sold I was really sad. I hated to lose my small claim on such superior beauty. I wondered how I would learn to survive summers without my usual escape to the idyllic realm of my youth.
Truthfully, it's been easier than I thought.
Make no mistake - I still miss the place - but I miss a lot of places. I have photos of all of those special locations that I left behind. If those aren't easily accessible, the pictures I carry in my mind always are. My visual memory has very crisp resolution and I can vividly recall details of the cabin, and of the house I grew up in and all of the places I've lived since - as well as about a bazillion other places I've visited and loved.
As I continue to travel and explore the world around me, the last line of the poem I wrote years back becomes ever more poignant. Fresh beauty will await me when I wake. I might be leaving a gorgeous vista in my rear view window, but there's always some bit of gorgeous scenery to savor up ahead.
I've learned there are other places where sunsets are just as spectacular. I've found greater appreciation for all of the beauty that surrounds me. I can appreciate fresh glittering snow (in winter!) as much as flowers blooming in June. I love the contrast between blue skies and fluffy clouds in an ever-changing mural on the horizon. I love watching buds burst open in spring, and leaves changing colour in autumn. Whatever the season, or the weather, nature offers glimpses of fleeting beauty that we should all strive to be attuned to.
Yesterday I saw a cardinal on my fence and admired the blossoms on my magnolia tree. The day before I enjoyed watching some skittish bunnies furtively roaming in my yard. I've learned to take the time to stop and study all the wonderful things that catch me eye. (Yes - I do stop to smell the roses too : ) Soon my magnolia will finish blooming, but I'll still have lilacs and peonies and a whole garden full of other flowers to look forward to.
I've been feeling a bit reminiscent lately, as I make preparations for the wedding of my younger son. I have been amassing family pictures to put on display at the reception, and at times I've wondered how I'll handle knowing that one of my chicks has left the nest - for good. I've had fleeting moments of panic. We won't represent "home" to him anymore! How will I cope with that knowledge?
But I'm happy to report that those feelings pass quickly. Kids leave home, but their presence in your life is still a constant - they always fill pictures in your home and memories in your heart.
In truth, you lose your kids at every stage of their development. You hold your newborn and say, "This is the best! He's so amazing!" Then he (or she) begins to walk and talk and explore and you think, "This is the best! He's so curious and learning new things every day!" You thought those same thoughts through every phase of their progress and as they hit each new milestone. Sometimes you might get sentimental about stages that went before, but you're always filled with anticipation for what's coming next.
Life is about to change for all of us. That's the way it is meant to be. I have a tendency to shed a tear or two when I see that scene in Fiddler on the Roof where Tevye and Golde witness the marriage of their eldest daughter Tzeitel to Motel, the tailor.The sentimental music plays in the background -
Sunrise, sunset - sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laiden with happiness and tears.
It wasn't a scene that choked me up the first few times I watched the movie. I was young then, and I had yet to say goodbye to many places or people that mattered to me. The very best sunsets were still the ones I always saw from the same windows. Children were still in my distant future. Somehow a scene that seemed pretty corny when I was an adolescent changed for me as soon as I became a mom. Now my tear glands kick in as soon as that music begins.
Twilight reflections come more often now as I take more time to ponder endings and fresh beginnings. I might find myself melancholy as I watch the sun set on what was a wonderful day, or era, but there will be a sunrise tomorrow. And with every new day comes some incredible new sight or experience. It might be as small as a seeing a chipmunk or as big as a family wedding filled with Kasenbergs, Jungs, Floods and Chamberlains.
Whatever the season or occasion, seize the moment and wring every drop of beauty and amazement from it that you can. Drink it all in and store it on cameras and in memory banks.
Then, sit back and anticipate. There's so much more to come.
