Stolen Moments and Cleansing Breezes By Cathleen Elise Rossiter
“Ordinary riches can be stolen; real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.” Oscar Wilde
As the mid-summer breezes make their way up the hill from the valley below, a tiny, soft breeze wanders
down my garden path and finds its way to me seated at my red wicker desk under the shade of the cherry tree, lingering for just a moment longer to refresh and revive my weary soul. The breeze carries with it the softest scent of the neighbor’s grass being mowed at the far end of the street above me. I catch the eternal scent of summer’s essence as another breeze winds itself around me, fiddling with a loose strand of my bangs hanging in front of my eyes.