At the end of the beginning...

One more week of winter, according to the calendar, although the past week has felt more like spring. The season is almost done. Something to reflect upon.

Age encourages reflection. The change of seasons reminds me that my own brief season in the sun is nearing its far terminus. Most of the preceding males in my line of Mitchells went down to earth in their eighties. I'll be eighty in a few weeks. Genetics make it likely that I'm already well into my last decade.

Denouement. That's what the novelists call it. That point in the plot where all the conflicts and complications get resolved, when all the loose ends are tied up. That's where I am. A little peace and calm. A spell of gratitude and forgiveness toward all participating parties. A rest from striving to please and impress. Some quiet joy at what is before the Author types The End.

It's been a pretty good read. I wouldn't mind at all if there were a sequel.

Henry's books.


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