Morning at the Falls

Samuel is still sleeping. I slip out gently closing the door at 6:30 am coffee in hand. As I  walk down the slope, spray from the Falls tickles my face. The street is lined with casino’s and attractions, but soon turns into a grassy park adorned with gardens full of tulips, red and yellow. I cross the road and sit on a bench breathing in the American Falls, quite astounding with the morning sun above it.

How I love this morning all on my own while all others are sleeping, except a few joggers and this odd man dressed in black hitting himself on the back in a weird type of exercise routine. The birds sing sweet songs in harmony with sounds of rushing water.

I am piqued by the thought implanted yesterday as we stood mesmerized by the hypnotic spell the Horseshoe Falls held us in, her power dropping over the edge before us. The woman next to me responded to my saying how relaxing it was with, “Yes, but think of the power and force of it.”

And that is so true, and something I’m lacking…peace and power. I awake from a dream where I am both—own both; I possess love and force, or love and power. And that is OK. That is what I’m missing. Boundaries. Others have it. They possess it naturally. Mine was taken. But this is something I can have back. I cannot restore everything, but in this I can. I can be at peace with power.