I drove to Grand Junction, stopping for the night to visit my mom. Guess what? I woke up the next morning to snow. Not surprised at all. What does surprise me is that fact that it hasn’t snowed on me yet since I got home. I didn’t have to pay the neighbor kid for shoveling the sidewalks either; it never snowed more than a skiff here while I was gone. I mean really?
The pile of mail is all sorted and dealt with. I’m prepped for a busy week next week. My granddaughter is coming to spend the night. The suitcase is put away and the laundry all done. I went shopping so there are fresh vegetables and fruit in the house. Now, I’m just waiting for spring. Is that too soon?
I’m reading a wonderful book called, “The Nightingale,” by Kristin Hannah. If you’ve ever wondered why farming is a revered profession in countries like France and not in America, the answer is in this book. The French people starved during WWII, the American people did not. We may have had soup lines and rations, but we did not starve. The French did. A slow gnawing away at one’s insides until walking or standing in line was too much to bear. On top of that, they had to watch their neighbors be hauled away in cattle cars, grabbed in the middle of the night, or shot for resisting.
Human Beings forget so quickly. I suppose it might be a mechanism of survival. But we should not forget the horrors of WWII. We should not forget what it was like not to be able to vote, what it was like not having choices, what it was like to starve to death because you are different. We should not forget.
How we treat each other – is everything. It is the only measure of success in our life that matters.