Letting Go
“Do you have many books? Not many here–thirty or forty. But your are welcome to any of them you haven’t read.”
East of Eden, John Steinbeck
Inspiration
Grasping with all our might we hold on tightly. Until we don’t. We let go. I came stuttering into fall. Didn’t want to let our Indian Summer go. September, early October, I rebelled against all things pumpkin and spice. Late in the afternoon I find myself in the garden searching for straggling, late season tomatoes. They aren’t very good tomatoes; mushy, without gloss, yet sweet. They are not slicing or galette making tomatoes. I tuck them into a full-bodied sauce or hearty soup that’s already simmering and feel good about using them. When I’m in the garden the late afternoon sun warms my shoulders, reaching past my sweatshirt to caress and soothe. The warmth eases the grip I have on the day. My hands loosen, relax as they clammer past the tangle of a busy day for one last tomato. That’s what I’m not ready to give up. But I will let go.
