It was such a beautiful outside run, but it felt like November. The past few Saturdays down by the lake I've been spotting a huge, and beautiful hawk. He sits in the tippy tops of the leafless trees and looks down on me as I progress along the trail by the lake. Then he'll open up his huge wings and soar to the next tree to continue looking down on me as I run along. My Dad loved hawks and owls. Today, while I was looking upward at this hawk, eyes locked in a mutual gaze, I was overcome with the idea this hawk was my father looking down on me. I know it's not true, but I actually had to stop running and cry about it for a second. I miss him. Especially around his birthday in early November through Christmas. | 