I slink out into passageway of peace, clarity strokes my eyes before they open to greet the day, to feel the breeze on my cheeks. It’s that time of combined yellow/ blue light that the coo-coo doves and wrens beckon into morning. Trees dance along to whooping melodies, little girls freckled from the sun chase the cat through the sprinklers like little tyrant knights…. this is summertime.
Still, I remain. Sitting outside in the gentle, humid Texas morning looking at my skin. One body, one mind, one being. Is it enough to live one life? 25 years into it and all I feel is the bitterness grind into dust and blow away like the flame in birthday wishes.
Today I have made a promise to myself (and oh how I hope not to break it) to indulge in every waking moment in this busy, little, fragile life of mine. I haven’t been “home” physically or mentally for a while now, but am slowly regaining my grounds, squeezing a waking breath into that fictitious fable we call life, we call living. I will learn what the wind wants when it lingers, why the sea shore swallows the light and crawls back begging for more. I will be in awe of the love surrounding me: the leaves turning and falling from the mesquite, the dawn that replenishes my hope, despite the conceit.
Recovered some rolls of film from when we went driving along the Baltic Sea a few years back, thought I’d reminisce a little….