Mrs. Havisham

There are situations in one’s life that causes time to stand still.


l’m not sure if being jilted at the altar is a good reason, it may have been a narrow escape, but I don’t know.

The  Waldo Canyon fire was two summers  ago.   I had taken down all the pictures so the painter (decorator) could paint.  Me and the painter were standing in the living room watching together when the fire crested over the mountain, 3 miles due west.   It was hot and the sunlight through the massive black clouds of smoke turned everything a weird orangish color, like a prelude of hell.   For a while, it was uncertain how far the fire would come.   But the painter kept on painting, the fire got under control after burning down 236 houses, then later in the summer came my bereavement.   I had hung up some of the artwork, but not all of it when time stopped.  These poor pictures have sat, leaning against the wall for the past two years.



So today I decided that they had been there long enough, so finally they are in position up on the wall.



Perhaps small steps can lead to bigger ones.



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