I am a shadow of the once lively me.
My wildcat stared at the closed back door, and I opened it to let her in from the heat. But she sniffed the door and turned away, stretching out on the cool of the concrete on the back porch, inviting me outside to join her.
So I grabbed my coffee and zucchini casserole leftovers and joined her in the soft breeze and sounds of the songbirds singing in our sycamore. The sycamore canopy completely shades our back yard; it is a marvelous old tree and one of the reasons we moved into this house thirty or so years ago.
As I relaxed on my back porch, I glanced at the red brick patio walkway, enjoying the shadows from the sycamore over the red twig dogwood that planted itself and now is taller than me.
The breeze puffed and relaxed, creating a dance of leaves upon the red brick, a lovely silhouette of the living leaves.
And I thought, the shadows are me, a shadow of the once lively me, cast in a dance off to the side and only occasionally noticed or even evident. Though its source may always be growing and flowing, its reality has lost energy and importance. I am a shadow of the once lively me.
Geeky Gramma ~~
Retired Middle School Language Arts Teacher ~~
Writer and Thinker