There are mornings when we rise beneath the weight of what was left undone—
unwritten pages, unspoken words, unfulfilled intentions that whisper from yesterday’s shadow.
We glance backward, wondering if too much time has passed,
if our moment has slipped quietly through the cracks.
But let this truth settle softly upon your heart:
Today is not too late.
Many of you may recall having read these lines from past Thanksgivings; it is a retelling of a visit I had with one of my patients during this time of year—a woman whose life and struggles were unlike mine in many ways, but who nevertheless taught me many things about courage and integrity.
I hope you enjoy these words, and have a blessed Thanksgiving week.
***
Allow me to spin upon the spindle
a tale of an encounter true.
A patient once, a homeless mum,
her words now recounted for you:
Reveries
grounded in clouds
swayed by zephyr’s whims
she is a lily bulb in the dust
redolent of fated blooms-
her longings a master
to the morning sun
in the vineyards
of En Gedi
Fragments of moons past
sketch silhouettes of
a scenery divine.
A daytime reverie.
Fond memory.
A granddaughter missing you.
Do you recall, grandma?
Long ago, a grandbaby born
into an era of bitter lack,
that enriched by your presence,
comforting embrace,
renewed to an age of precious worth?
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