Focused at Fifty

"Farmer's Market, Londonderry, Vermont"  Recently I was walking through an outside city market, enjoying all the sights, sounds and smells of food before me. I love the cacophony and energy of it all. People bustling about, each on their own mission to get what they need. Others simply browsing.  There were individuals like myself just observing and people watching. And the hardworking vendors, all trying to make an honest days work. Vendors of fruit, vegetables, meats, cheese, coffee, bourbon, beer, and food stalls all co-existing as separate businesses and yet depending on each other for support. There were so many people. Market days are always so packed, it doesn't matter what city. It could be Philly or DC, could be LA, could be New York!  I was turning a corner and passed someone who I instantly thought was my recently departed friend Chris. He just passed away in November. Ironically, Chris had been in my thoughts lately. My heart sunk and I stopped

"Max at Night" Last night around 3 am, I was awoken by a rustling beneath my window. Now I love the Spring as I can now sleep with my windows open but that also invites those outside nighttime sounds in. Whatever it was, it was clicking and scratching beneath the white rhododendron bush. I looked outside, seeing nothing but fog consuming the houses down my street. More digging and clicking which prompted Max the Cat to leap from his cat bed to my bed to the window sill in two large bounds. Max responded by chittering away. All I heard was chittering and clicking for the next couple minutes. I eventually fell asleep again. Time passed, it may have been a couple minutes, or maybe an hour. I stirred awake and noticed Max still sitting on the windowsill staring outside. I whispered to him, knowing he wouldn’t listen, Come to bed Max, stop being such a night owl. He glanced in my direction, acknowledging me, and then went back to his pensive stare out the window.