LIFE AS IT IS

I have never seen the splendor of autumn before. I haven’t known the festival that fall plans for the mankind– the autumnal celebration of colors is a beauty to behold. As the winter was approaching the trees were shedding leaves; they were metamorphosing from green giants to living skeletons of boughs and branches. Soon their twiggy bodies would be covered with snow. The branches that once exhibited shades of green, were now clad in a thousand shades of brown, red, orange and yellow. Leaves fell like rain when the wind blew; the ground under every deciduous tree was a bed of leaves. A crackling sound followed my footsteps when I walked on them. A pair of ducks swimming on the Mississippi was enjoying the cold afternoon – they poked each other and ducked their heads underwater playfully. As they glided in the cold water, dead leaves from maples and birches fell on the water in silence. A gush of wind separated more leaves from their branches, thrusting them farther away from the t

The bygone days are pages of history. Only if we could go back in time...so many small and big changes could we have made. An unexpressed love could have been expressed, a sin could have been undone, a mistake could have been corrected... history could have been changed... But once a page is written in history, it cannot be re-written. So even though we can repent for our sins, sins committed remain sins. As people, we can only try not to commit the same mistake twice. But that doesn't change the mistakes that we have already made, the mistakes whose details already hang from the pages of our history book. Don't we all have our own history volumes? Each of us has our own single edition history book. The more we live, the fatter our history volume becomes. Each day that is crossed out from life becomes a new page of that volume. Each day begins with a fresh page, snow-white and spotless. But as every hour goes past, a few words, a new line or maybe a whole paragraph is written.