OUT MY WINDOW

When I sit at my desk and computer, I can look out my window at the lake road.
I see the walkers, runners, riders, dog-lovers whose pooches are taking their owners for a walk. I wait for the first signs of spring when my neighbor’s magnolia tree is in full-bloom. It is so beautiful. Eventually I’ll have a few flowers in my own yard to marvel over..
I watched what may be the last snow of the winter. The big snow that will take us well over 100 inches. It is a beautiful snow, the gentle wind blowing it toward the west.
But the other day was a different story. It was after midnight. Something woke me up and I saw yellow and red lights flashing through the slats of my blinds.
I pulled one up to half-mast to see what was going on. There was a policeman guiding a truck onto the lake road. I couldn’t see anything else. There is not a street light on that corner. I thought it was probably the utility company making repairs, and went back to bed. I could not have been more wrong. I found out later it was a fire truck followed by police cars.
The next morning my neighbor told me what had happened only four houses and less than a block away. I, like everyone else was shocked and saddened by the death of Ann Nelson. This could not happen in a small town. In a close and safe community like Cambridge and the Town of Oakland.
I can see the activity down the road. I can’t explain the guilty feeling. IF I had gone home that way, or IF I had seen a suspicious person or IF I had seen some smoke early on–maybe, maybe--. I closed my blinds. It did not help.
I only knew Ann Nelson associated with her job as a Realtor. I had tagged along with my daughters when each of them was looking at homes on the lake. She was out-going and friendly. A very nice person.
Anyone you talk to the past few days has said she was such a giving person, active in her church, the school, and ready whenever a helping had was needed.
One friend said her parish priest called her "St. Ann" because when anything needed to be done, she was there.
Another friend said that she and her husband had recently moved happily into their new home, next to the farmhouse where they had raised their six kids.
Even though I did not know Ann well,. I feel a connection. This tragedy could have been mine. It could have been yours.
. I was a wife. I am a mom, and grandmother. I started a new career in my sixties. When we reached 70, I bet she, like me, couldn’t believe how in the world those year flew by so fast.
By now, the serviced are ended. The town has gathered to say their last good-byes.
The media is gone. Silenced for only a little while.
Now the work begins. The grieving process is not easy. In a way it never ends. It just takes on different faces. This is the hard part.
The circle of life continues in the hearts of her family and friends. Remembering the many good times. Keeping her memory alive. That will be the easy part.

Along the Road
I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say,

I walked a mile with Sorrow
And ne’er a word said she;
But oh, the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me.

Robert Browning Hamilton