Life Is In Fact A battle


It’s almost the end of October and the cold weather has already settled in. The sky is grayish blue on most days.  The leaves have fallen from most trees and people are busy blowing them off their lawns and backyards. The days are short and dark. 

I love autumn. I always have. I love how the trees and the leaves change color, some so red and blue and purple and orange and yellow and green and velvety. I love to simply walk in the streets and be amazed by the different colors of the leaves and feel the change in me too.

Unfortunately this autumn I couldn’t be outdoors much. See, I am not in the prime of my life anymore. And as such I have some challenges that I have to face and sometimes I have to slow down and take it easy and make the most of my situation. 

I still watch the trees from my living room window. I see boys and girls walk hurriedly to school in groups in the morning. I see them walk by in the afternoon back home, this time leisurely, playfully, talking and laughing noisily. For me there’s no better and greater feeling of well being than to hear voices full of life and vigor and know that all is well around me.

Autumn

Winter is around the corner with its cold and snow and wind and storms. But for some people nothing will change. They will still walk to bus stops, to the metro, to their cars every day, to go to work or school.

My life is both bitter and sweet right now. Bitter because of the greatness of my loss. Yet sweet because of all the things and especially all the people still in my life. 

Winter also means that another year has passed and I might be closer to my goals than I was a year ago. I feel that I have matured as a person and a writer and what seemed impossible a year ago might become possible. I feel that finally I am not that lost and I have come home to myself. And as I hope, I feel that this winter will mark the beginning of something new in my life. 

To use Henry James’ words:  

“Life is, in fact, a battle. Evil is insolent and strong; beauty enchanting, but rare; goodness very apt to be weak; folly very apt to be defiant; wickedness to carry the day; imbeciles to be in great places, people of sense in small, and mankind generally unhappy. But the world as it stands is no narrow illusion, no phantasm, no evil dream of the night; we wake up to it, forever and ever; and we can neither forget it nor deny it nor dispense with it.”

ChK

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