Empty Lot

It was my dream last night…

Merely a passenger on a bus, but happily so, glad there was another to take the helm. it was not my ride, but I was there.

There were many near misses, acts of God, heavy snowfall, and ice to follow. There were uncleared streets; narrow misses with oncoming traffic, as we went back and forth on a repeated circuit, and then, they were cleared, with salt for traction, safe at last.

I got off the bus, and walked along, I looked up on the top of a small hill, where a beautiful house once stood, and felt the tragic loss, the empty spot where once was possibility.

I awoke, from these connected dreams, and realized I am entering a new phase of my mourning; of my morning.

I am ok with others carrying on with taking other people to and from their destinations.

And the empty lot, the missing house is at once symbolic of the missing houses. My brother’s home has changed forever, no longer what it was, no longer can it ever be what it once was. But then I think of my parents, gone, of her parents and their homestead gone. Are my own lost dreams in there as well?

As I looked for a picture for the feeling, I saw the one I have up above there. Do you see the sullen horizon? It gives me Joy. A storm is passing, with more work to do, once the morning breaks through.