ONE STEP AT A TIME

I was reminded today about when I first moved to Oregon 13 years ago, thinking I had only a few months to live, going through several major illnesses, getting down to 125 pounds at one point. And then the Oregon winter -- and the constant overcast skies and the mist and rain. I would walk alone in the streets at night. You know, when there's few people out, and the street lamps shine across the wet pavement, and you can hear the silence of the eternal bearing down. It is those times that I feel most alive, without the distractions and echoes of everyday life.
I remember during one of those walks coming across a haiku to the Japanese-Americans who were wrongly interned during WWII. Seventy Years ago. A minuscule amount in the vastness of time. There is always comfort, reasons to be grateful, always hope, even in the rain.