End of Day

         As the day ended, she looked out her window at the pale blue-green sky fading into darkness. The intricate branches of the ancient oak trees that encircled her property were silhouetted against the background palette of space that shifted moment by moment, like God was constantly changing his mind as to what color he wanted to use. A toenail moon hung suspended, the only accent in a cloudless sky.

         Her view afforded her the chance to watch the horses grazing in the pasture. Once again, she was struck by the sense of peace brought by observing such a simple act; infinate patience and focus applied to a seemingly boring activity.

         The clock beamed it’s bright red reminder that the day, and the time available in it, had moved on. But as usual, the majority of the day she’d found herself more captivated by the show afforded by Mother Nature through her window, than by the lure of being productive. The show was amazing; house finches picked apart the palm fronds for nesting material, while two hummingbirds waged an avian aerial dogfight over a blossoming redbud bush. Her cat had sat transfixed on the windowsill watching the same show, but less with appreciation and more with his innate intrinsic desire to have an early lunch.

         The phone rang, interrupting her reflection. Marla again. She made herself more comfortable as she positioned the phone so that she could hear clearly without making her ear ache. It was "Gregory soap opera" update time. As Marla began her entertaining litany of the past week’s events in her newest relationship, it crossed her mind how people needed to quit watching television and genuinely listen to their friends, listen to their lives. Reality was so interesting.

         She adored Marla, for all of the qualities that were in her friend that she herself lacked. The drama and intensity with which she lived each day amused and gave balance to her own more sedate and confined life. This fling with Gregory was probably doomed just like the others, as Marla seemed to have a knack for choosing men with little depth; a safety mechanism no doubt. But she found herself rooting for her friend like an enthusiastic cheerleader hoping that in spite of all adversity, the underdog would prevail. Someday she knew the right man would come along for Marla, and she’d know it by listening between the lines of her narratives. She would detect the energy of someone, and something, meaningful creeping into the conversation. Until then, she sat and listened to her friend with appreciation for how the universe, through relationship with others, provides the lessons and foundations needed for growth.

         As usual, one phone call was followed by another; so many caring and beloved people in her life. The research tapes for her book would apparently sit untouched for a good part of the evening, as they had done during the day. Amazing how time can fly on such supposedly thin wings of productivity. She suspected, however, that like her horse's patient contented hours spent merely grazing from one bit of grass to another - time judged meaningless by human nature might ultimately hold the key to all. She had long ago quit judging her use of time.

         As each day passed, she was more and more struck by the peace and tranquility she found in things that previously she’d judged as inconsequential. Oh, she’d always loved and appreciated nature, but on the fly. It was one thing to admire a bird on a limb in passing, and entirely another to sit and, through an open window, engage it in a sort of conversation by trying to imitate its sounds. It was one thing to admire and appreciate the beauty in passing of a sunset, and entirely another to observe it from beginning to end, in the process becoming one with it.

         Helena came in to see if there was anything she could do for her before she retired for the night. As usual, Helena had seen to all of her needs. Wanting for nothing, she merely replied with a contented no, and expressed again to this kind woman her appreciation for all she’d done to assist her through yet another day. Helena was a great part of what she counted as her blessings. A helper, and more importantly, a friend in the truest sense of the word. As Helena left, she settled deeper into her pillows and looked out at what now was a deep black sky dotted with sparkling stars, and thought once again how very lucky she was.

         Helena quietly closed the door. Shaking her head slowly and sadly, she walked down the hall toward her room, once again thinking how tragic it was that this beautiful and vibrant woman who employed her was confined to living the rest of her life so severely handicapped.