## Falling is Not Failing ![[Vibrant colors on the horizon.jpg|400]] [Author generated AI Image from Google Gemini] Wandering on once familiar sidewalks. The fall leaves drift like feathers. Vibrant colors on the horizon, contrasted by bran flakes in the gutters. Melina senses it. The wind whispered secrets through the trees. Her secrets, only known in the confessional. The bells of tradition, shawl of sorrow, the vail of beginnings. The sparks of childhood memories of simpler days and Indian Summers. Standing, staring, embracing the shame, cleansing the anger, breaking free. Unchanged by time, but bigger in memory. The families, the kids, the community, the service, Melina misses parts of it. Gone are the days, recovery is the future. --- The random word is: **Feather** The required sentence is: "The wind whispered secrets through the trees."