Wednesday, November 27, 2013

November 27, 2013

I miss the familiar, and charming, and heterogeneous city of trees. I miss the Saturday Market, and coffee at Dawson's. I miss my winter garden with the frozen roses and the winter birds and visitors who inhabited it.

I don't miss the cold, and I have changed snow for rain. So I should be happy.

I miss Barnes and Nobles, miss my frequent escapades there and the memorable cafeteria with the music of Andrea Bocelli on the background; a cup of coffee; a cinnamon scone and the Selina Lake books I used to adored and leaf through, page after page, until each photograph was well memorized through my fingers.... a dozen books and magazines to take with me inside my bubble... because, I live in a bubble... a rare and wonderful bubble of comfort and luxury and invention and a thousand rare stories.

I want to sit down and be able to write again like I used to write when, regardless the amount of people I was surrounded by I was still able to concentrate and be inspired and be fruitful inside that precious peaceful bubble.

I haven't talked to the moon in a while. And I haven't got a wing under my heart for days and days. I cannot fly. And I miss my girls terribly and I often find myself crying when, really, there's no need for it. And if you ask me why I'm here I would not be able to really answer. But life is good. It is 'life' after all, and I'm still in it.

And thus, I still finding immense joy in the little things in life. I love my chunky white dishes and love that sparkle of pink wintery light in the bird's tree.

I finally got my scrubs today with the hospital logo in it... royal blue, and big and uninteresting. I am fortunate to have what I have. And yet, right after I got my uniform I went to that law office across the court house. A huge amount of files everywhere; a fat Angola cat; rabbit-like fluffy; mocha in color walked all over the files. He meowed at me when I pet him... I don't think I really want to work there.

I went to Wal-Mart and brought home a truck load of food for our Thanksgiving day dinner.

I am blessed. I am frightened. I am that child of long ago shrouded in night. I want to wake up and regain my usual self, but the dampness of frogs keep me awake during the day; a rainy song in my navel. I am blessed. I walk in total dependence.

Bethel Music - Walk in the Promise

Our souls wait in silence, in rest and in quiet for You, Spirit
In trust and dependence we walk in the promise of You, coming
With hope and healing in Your wings, with fire and with wind
You fall on us again

Our souls wait in silence, in rest and in quiet for You, Spirit
In trust and dependence we walk in the promise of You, coming
With hope and healing in Your wings, with fire and with wind
You fall on us again

Here we are waiting for this house to be shaken
For the boldness to carry Your name to the nations
Your signs and Your wonders to go now before us
For the weight of Your glory to rest as we lift You up...


1 comment:

  1. You walk a fine line Cielo, almost between worlds. The push and pull between fantasy and reality and the irresistible urge to stay in a world of your own creation. where the sunlight of day brings life to everything it touches and the sweet mystery of darkness brings a peace and tranquility to your heart. I can feel your sadness and yearning for what you left behind and its like a dull pain in the heart. You will be fine when spring comes. This time of year is wonderful, but I sense you need your hands in the earth and being able to work win nature to create your own special haven. Be strong sweet spirit winter is a time for introspection. There are many that find joy and comfort in your words.
    Sherry

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