Still Shines

“And in our souls the Indian summer burns.”

Longfellow's words touch my soul and revive my spirit.

No longer will I deny myself the childish pleasure the cadence of parade music provides nor

The utter delight in sharing a generously iced breakfast bun (not on my diet) with a kindred soul on a snowy Sunday morning

Nor ignore the latent pleasure found in the countless Christmas catalogs beginning to overflow from my mailbox.

Despite the awareness that in all probability I will never attend another parade and

Must return with caution to a limited diet the morning after the luxury of the savored breakfast bun oozing with raspberry jelly,

And although my gift giving has diminished and those who I love, far prefer gift certificates than the colorful unique items shown so beautifully in the catalogs that enhance my joy of the season,

I will no longer apologize nor relinquish the brief return of Indian summer to to my limited world.

These moments will not linger long, youth never does, but always leaves a residual of hope, and belief in miracles.

And as the poet, Samuel Longfellow, said

“The glow, the thrill, which show that youth survives,

That though through softening mists—still shines the sun”

And my diminishing world becomes far brighter.