In the hours before dawn the river is a wavy reflection of color cast by the city lights. Streaks of amber and ivory and red. A momentary and wistful display seen only at this hour. The fog lifts and with the mornings first light the painting disappears. It's the nature of light and life. Tiny reflections, fragile, easily disturbed.
People are much the same. They walk into our lives and cast their colors and give us reflections into their spirits and lift and guide us on our daily walks. Much as you good folks have done for me over the last two days.
You have overwhelmed me.
This morning I shall make every attempt to individually answer each of your comments. Seems the least I can do after such a wonderful outpouring of support during this difficult period of my life.
I hope each of you awaken to find a personal watercolor to begin your day. God bless you.