Page 41 - index

Outside the air was clean and fresh, and the

sky was a luminous pastel yellow, glowing and
throwing light all around. The colors of the
snow were emerging in that magical time of late

afternoon. On the trees where crystals melted,
colors were of darkest hues, with bluish-purple
undertones on shimmering branches of brownish
black, smooth and wet, catching light reflections
from the sky and ground below.

As I walked I saw footprints, snowy etched
imprints of many owners boots, each unique and

distinct, and alongside those were the paw prints
of several canine friends out for their afternoon
walks. I marveled at how the pathway was covered
by these markings and the stories they could tell.
I thought for sure I’d be able to find my own

boot marks on the return trip home, but most had
already been obscured, trodden over by others.
This helped me understand that we may find

traces of our past, yet we never really go back,
but always forward, onward, or “now-ward”. Our
journey lies in each moment, never to be repeated
in the same way again.

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