My first post from my writing room

In the past few years my mother has started talking about the sound of the Canadian geese flying overhead on their way south for winter. It makes her heart dance. The little body of water they live close to is a stopping point and for a few days ever fall it is a loud honking fest of geese. Tonight, as the houses start to glow a bright orange and I watch the smoke rise from the houses on the far hill in the distance, I listened to geese flying over head. I thought of my mother and how some of her dreams have died in the past few years. I make a promise to myself to be aware of my life here. To be appreciative... because even after 30 years of marriage, it can still go tits up.