She leaned in and kissed him, driven by an irresistible impulse rather than a well-planned intention.
Like a gentle dare, inviting him to join her in a moonlit dance, offering a mysterious and alluring proposition.
Little did she know the long shadow this moment would cast, lingering throughout the rest of her seasons.
Caught between feelings of regret and joy, she often reflects on the lessons learned from that bittersweet passion.

As I was applying my lavender lotion tonight.  
My fingers noticed something that didn't seem right.  

The blue flowers of love are no longer in bloom.  
My body feels as bare as a tree in winter's gloom.  

My brief summer of passion is a shadow from the past.
Your lips and my body, forever continents apart.

Forgiving others to heal your wounds is just a way to start,  
You must extend the same to yourself, from the depths of your heart,
Not just for the moments you may have hurt others,
But for the times you abandoned yourself,

Staying in situations too long, holding tight instead of letting go,  
Putting in effort that went unseen, sowing seeds that couldn't grow,  
Hiding your pain behind a smile, crafting a brave disguise,  
Accepting less than you deserve, afraid of cutting old ties,  
Stop sending signals that you don't matter,  
Reclaim your worth - as a gem and a treasure,
Permit to lighten your burden and let the healing begin.  
Forgiving yourself is a journey to find true love within.

From the very beginning, we communicated our intended destinations.
You chose to head east, while I set off north without hesitation.
Yet we keep crossing paths, despite our carefully planned intentions.
The programmer must have left a glitch in the Earth's rotation.

My logic keeps pointing to all that doesn't make sense.  
Yet, I listen to my heart and its weak, jumbled defense.  

I cling to frayed memories from the past,  
Replaying stories that weren't meant to last.  
I yearn for what never reflected my worth.  
Leaving me anxious and dimming my mirth.  

What I need is a big old box to bury pieces from the past.  
Say gratitude for the pain and growth that it brought.  
Then hurl it as far away as my arms can cast.  
Enjoy the weight lifted, a sense of relief at last.

What happened?  
When, where, and to whom?  
What caused it?  
Why did it happen under these specific circumstances?
We constantly ask and answer questions.
Before we identify strategies to prevent it from happening again,
All is done applying rigorous science.
The curiosity of being an epidemiologist is both a gift and a curse.
The desire to understand the complete picture is the driving force that propels us forward.    
And, even in retirement, the flame of curiosity, ignited by years of work as an epidemiologist, continues to burn brightly.  
Analyzing the crumbling public health doesn't require sophisticated modeling.
When overwhelmed with the dire answers and their potential consequences
I shut out the media, gather my painting supplies, and escape into the abstract zone,  
Where it's okay for things not to make sense.
It's a place where I can create the make-believe world I wish to live in.

We spend a lifetime tracing our footprints on this shore
Only to have them erased by time, no matter what beauty or allure.
The waves of time move swiftly, sweeping each moment into the ocean.
And we are all destined for the same fate, with very few exceptions.
Time must clear the canvas of life for those following behind,
Our life is a one-time gift; there is no option to PAUSE or REWIND.