As the joy of the holidays subsided, the dark days of winter took hold. Truly, the last few days of 2016 brought death to a close and disconcerting distance. It stepped in and stayed until as recently as last week. And still, it lingers.
I’d pulled my black leather pumps from their shelf high in the closet. I’d arched my inner soles into their uncomfortable embrace. I’d released my tired, swollen toes from their pinch at the end of the day. But I’d yet to return them to their box; death would not let me store them away for the next black dress event.
There was another, and another.
A year of new life was marred by the loss of three precious ones.
Death is always waiting in the wings – but I’m comforted by the thought that their spirits fly in the wind that catches our breath and reminds us we’re alive.