Monday, Monday

I can't believe it is the last week of the Summer Institute. It is starting to sink in that next week will give way to sleeping in, sunbathing by my pool (sunscreen on of course) and being home to spend time with Frank before he leaves yet again for another one of his all too frequent business trips. I give thanks to everyone today as I think of the small things that matter most in life.

Here is my latest piece of writing:

The Window
He looks out his window, not ashamed. He knows not of love or what it really means to have a family. He sits alone not by choice, but by his own doing. Really he knows no other way of life.He knows not of what he is missing or of what he could have had. His black hair remains untouched by gray and white stands. But his age still shows by the wrinkles on his face. There is a twinkle of youth missing from his eyes. Nearing death he does not reflect. He does not show remorse. If he has love you can not see it on his face. You can not hear it spoken as it never came across those tightly pursed lips. He sits alone in his window. If a stranger walked by and looked up into the window, a thought of sadness might cross their mind. But they do not know of the hurt he caused or the words that were left unspoken. They do not know of the sorrow of his actions.