What Comes After

I’ve been reading this morning.  Words of someone I don’t know.  I follow her blog and admire her photos.  She talks of her mother dying.  It has been a long time coming.  It is poetry, both her words and her images.  Today, my faraway family relives another death.  A trial.  An alleged killer who, while drunk, ran my nephew and two of his friends off the road, killing them all.  Excess speed.  Excess drink and so many lives altered.  They face this young man for the first time, while the judicial system listens to testimonies and facts and will ultimately fail my family.  It can not give them what was lost.

It has been unusually cold this January.  We’ve had days of frost and the ficus trees, bougainvillea, honeysuckle — all are withered and brown.  I know the wind will come, shaking the trees, cleaning the branches of dead leaves.  It will make room for the new growth that comes with a warmer sun and rare spring rain.  So come on Spring, we’re ready for you.  We need to see what comes after.

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