FULL-SPECTRUM COLOR

There are certain qualities that define the peak of summer in Maryland. And I revel in them all. Everything is lush and green and alive, and the air often thick with heat and humidity and the smell of fescue and ryegrass. Mornings are filled with the songs of all variety of woodland birds, from the red-breasted robin to the Carolina wren, the caw of black crows and the triplet coo, coo, coo of morning doves. Birds warble, low light pierces through trees, large insects zip by — horse flies, bumble bees, big black cicadas that sometimes smack into me as I stroll down the driveway to fetch the morning paper.

This morning, while scrolling endlessly through my Instagram feed, I was struck by a photo posted by a woman in the U.K. whose Instagram account I follow. Her name is Julie Jones and she goes by the moniker of the “Soulful Baker.” Her posts often show the most artfully created baked pies and treats which she makes completely from scratch with utmost mindfulness and beauty. What’s equally striking about Julie’s feed are the occasional posts and short musings about her “mum,” who is suffering from severe dementia. This morning’s post was one of those, and it really caused an ache in my heart. It reminded me of pictures I used to take of me and my dad, who also suffered from severe dementia before he passed in 2016. In fact, just to look at their faces, you might think my dad and Julie’s mom were sister and brother.

This past New Year’s Day, I awoke early in the morning, troubled by a strange thought. While my heart was filled with gratitude for the chance to embark on another year of life ahead, my brain reminded me that later this year, I would turn 44 years old.

There is a beautiful hush about this particular Monday, January 1, 2018. It is as though the whole world is re-evaluating itself and its life path. The highways and bi-ways were unusually spacious for a Northern California weekday. The sun seemed to have fallen into an afternoon nap, resting its rays on us with soft energy. Those who are out milling about are not in a hurry or rush. They smile more. Some even go so far as to greet me with “Happy New Year” even though we are passing strangers.