Reflections from an Open Window
Linda Raha's Writing Corner
I like the Caribbean blues. That mix of salt and sea is such good company. There is a blur of blue and green beneath a canopy of fluffy clouds. The clouds float, in a sea all their own. The breeze is brisk a reminder that time stands still for no one. It is best to
I have always loved to walk along the seashore, collecting bits of treasure, odd pieces of driftwood, pretty shells, shiny stones that glitter at the water's edge. It is easy to fill a pail with many things. You must choose wisely, because you can only bring home so many gifts from the sea. There are
The fog hangs heavy in the early morning light. What a lovely canvas for this soft mist - a painter's dream. The leaves lie dormant upon the ground, mostly burnt sienna, but some, lemon yellow. I search to find a scarlet leaf, but there are none to be found; nor, is there a cardinal anywhere
God has blessed us with our daily work, which changes throughout our lives; it is not only our professional work, but the work of our hands and hearts in countless ways. It is said that the work of a child is play, because that is how they learn about the world. Perhaps, in adulthood, we
There is something beautiful about an aging soul; it knows to embrace the universe with open arms. It is like a mighty Oak that has seen many tired winters; still, it remembers a first snow. The reaching arms have borne the weight of many storms; they have endured the heartbreak of broken branches. Those arms
I have already begun to feel the pull of the changing seasons; summer is not yet over, but autumn is closing in. Pale yellow leaves are starting to drop from the trees, and the summer sun feels different, somewhat less bold. September will come softly as it always does, heralding a new season, diffused sunlight
The years come and go, but the heart always remembers summer. It remembers the wide band of sand and sea, the cry of the seagulls, the sensation of warm sand between your toes. The heart remembers the little Sandpiper upon the shoreline, and the Hermit crab who pops up now and again to survey the
My father taught me how to row a boat when I was very young. I liked to dip the oar on one side and go in circles; he let me go far off, making circles, finding my way. I loved the water even then, especially at night when the phosphorescence glowed. I loved the minnows
Whichever way you choose to go, there will be those who do not understand; choose anyway. The walk you walk is yours alone; these are the steps that matter. In life, there will always be questions; the answers must come from within. Steer clear of the noise, the voices that drown out your own; remain
Sometimes, the streams in life seem icy-cold; we stand mid-stream, afraid to move. There is always the fear of falling. The stream makes its way to a river, the ebb and flow of life, moving us forward. We cannot see around the bend; all we can do is take it one step at a time.