Almost a year ago, I was walking in the Saint-Sulpice woodland. I was on vacation. Autumn had officially begun, although this year, it is still in its infancy. As often happens when things are repeated, the observation is pretty much the same. However, the eye always finds something to explore. I’m back on vacation after a year of hardly going outside. I’m doubly inoculated, the virus is a little less scary, and the seasons don’t give a damn.
The woods were almost free of walkers. Students from Ahuntsic CEGEP were buzzing around, their on-premise classes finished, in a hurry to get back home, avoiding the quiet meanderings of the small, ageing forest. The paths were dry, the foliage still very green despite the first leaves fading here and there.
I found the tree with the big jaw again. It looks like a magic door to a world of dragons and witches. Everything seems to lead to this tree. Glancing inside, my eyes quickly spotted an insect gilding its exoskeleton. A little later, at the bend in the path, a tiny snail was eating its leaf while waiting to hibernate. It seems that these creatures can also “estivate,” that is to say, protect themselves from the too hot periods of the summer. And how long does a snail live ? The Great Internet tells me that it depends on the species. Anyway, I won’t know more about this one.
The good thing about the vacations is that you can live your uselessness full time, sleep and moan and still get your paycheck even if, by devious technology, a colleague ends up calling you because he’s really stuck with a problem.
No big deal. I’m still taking care of myself. The important thing is to feel the persistent and benevolent swelling of the lungs, to trust our industrious heart to push the road a little further. To wait for tomorrow to magically transform into a present woven in the light of one’s existence. To live is above all to give thanks.