With gray clouds dropping into the city and snow beginning to spit, our old brown truck and I rumble our way through downtown. The truck seems to stand out, anomalous, in the pedestrian traffic and new cars that fill the lanes. Driving in its noise and warmth, I feel the coziness of winter wrap around me. Like a scene in a movie signifying change, signifying a shift, the season changes before my very eyes and I know winter is on its way.
A sea-change, a radical shift, a transformation.
Earth makes her way through the galaxy, spinning daily, yearly revolving, and we go along with the changes each season brings. And we change. We transform season to season, year to year, as we grow, evolve, learn.
The snow is falling steadily now, and is predicted to cover all by morning, but only by a few inches. Nonetheless, the scene will be radically changed - at least for a few hours. Fall will seem to be gone and winter well on its way.
I am content.
From
Shakespeare's The Tempest, 1610:
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
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