The York River uncovered its silent, silvery face on the edge of morning. The eastern sky blossomed in a myriad array of light and dark, and day was born to this intricate world of death and new life, battleground and playground, colonial craft and space craft. Yorktown, Virginia, is a fitting place to replenish one’s being, to build potency in the fellowship of one’s friends, and to begin the passage through another decade of life’s sensations.
It is interesting how we ten-fingered creatures measure time by decades. By chance ten years is a good measure of life’s passage, the first to get to the second and so on.
And now my seventh decade begins. The number seven is sturdy in its indivisible solidarity, odd in its eccentricity, and repetitive in its promise of renewal. Proud to be competent in the beginning, I call upon harmony for the transition. |
