Our Time Comes to Grieve
Sep 23
It was a sunny early fall afternoon as I sailed east on the 401, occasionally passing areas with trees starting to turn into what will soon by a blaze of autumn colour. Even on a busy highway a certain quiet envelopes me inside the cab of my pickup. The time is mine to use for thought, forming ideas, contemplating.
As I passed Cobourg a cluster of people standing on an over pass catches my attention. They aren’t kids fooling around, they are adults, their attention apparently towards the east on the westbound side of the highway. A few kilometers on I met what they were waiting for, in the passage of but a few seconds we passed each other. More
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