This was written after December 21st – the day the world was supposed to end.
I got sidetracked and wrote “The End of My World” instead.
Finding it this morning, I was inclined to finish it. It wasn’t too difficult to pick up the thread of thought . . .



Perhaps it was the idea that the world would end yesterday that stirred up my inspiration to write.
“You don’t miss someone/something until they’re gone” is an old adage which over time I’ve learned to be true.
We all get caught up in our personal “stuff” and carry around “baggage” (I despise that term – history or experience seems to fit better I think).
We carry on each day, taking so much for granted, going from pillar to post as Grama used to say, over and over, same old, same old – like a hamster on a treadmill.
Some people like the state of being in comfortable rut and I’m guilty of that sometimes myself.
The Doomsday prediction by the Mayans really got to me and I didn’t realize it until yesterday – D-day.
Waking up that day I felt like I was walking on eggs. Besides dealing with our first serious snow storm of the season, no internet service because of it and the power being on and off most of the day, it was challenging and nerve racking.
The day couldn’t end quickly enough for me.
Then it did.
The snow was shovelled, the power restored, thoughts of having to cook dinner on the woodstove dispelled, ability to play on Facebook again – all restored!
That night in bed, after reading a few chapters, I turned off the light and snuggled in.
As I gazed up at the pine vaulted ceiling of my bedroom and pulled up the down duvet a little closer, a hazy scenario took shape in my minds eye.
I saw a family huddled in the darkness of a small make shift shelter of boards and mortar. The children were dirty and you could see the tracks of tears on their dust covered faces. They were cold and hungry. The parents were aware of this but had more important things on their minds like surviving the night undetected until sunrise when they could sneak away to a safe haven - somewhere far away from this place. . . .
Although a figment of my imagination as the scene played out I could feel the fear, hunger, confusion and the loss of all things familiar and dear to me.
I closed my eyes tightly and felt the tears well up.
Suddenly I was ashamed of how I had handled things here at home today.
After complaining and my impatience with all the trivial inconveniences I endured, I now felt humbled.
How bloody lucky am I?
I lay in my soft warm bed and spoke out loud of my gratitude for all I have – no matter how simple or small.
Sending thoughts of love and hope to all who tremble, are afraid, are cold and hungry tonight.
May everyone be as fortunate as I am.
God bless us, every one . . . . .