Drinking In High School-Personal Narrative

Late October skies in South Dakota are something to behold. The skies, bleached to pale blue from summer 's heat, take on deeper, richer hues. Hot relentless winds of summer yield to cooler softer breezes that gently caress the face. With winter peeking around the corner, these Autumn days are fleeting and treasured. October 31, 2011 dawned with all the necessary ingredients for pure perfection. While drinking my morning coffee and drinking in the beautiful morning, I considered it a shame to waste it at work. If there was a day to play hooky, this was the one. Why does it seem to many important events happen when you 're in the shower? Phones ring, texts emit "click-click" notifications and door bells chime. The shower was all that remained to separate me from a world of laissez-faire leisure and a world of corporate chaos. Phone calls, texts and unknown visitors were not enough to interrupt this cherished activity that morning. My work clothes were laid out: black pants, gray manager shirt (which looked remarkably similar to my local auto mechanic 's uniform), black belt, black socks, black shoes. I sighed,

The weeks passed, and I went through the clerical processes of death, designed to help us focus on something other than the ever-present grief. There was a funeral with full military honors on a beautiful cloudless day with cool breezes caressing our faces. Life continued, the fog of grief slowly dissipated, and three years passed before I realized that as the widow of a Chief Master Sgt., Air Force, college tuition monies were available. At 56 years old, distanced from collegiate life for 37 years, I enrolled as a full-time student at FHSU. I don 't know where a degree will take me in this autumnal stage of life, however, achieving this goal seems to offer action toward bringing purpose to a senseless death. As I write, the faded blue skies are creeping toward azure perfection, soft breezes caress the face, and winter is peeking around the