Some mornings it is hard to sit still by myself, with myself, the cat nearby on the screen porch, the little candle aflame flickering softly, the birds not yet up. A compulsion to do something is quelled knowing that going to my core only happens in stillness.
Why is so repulsive to be there? There is where solace lay, in my own being, with my own words, feelings and thoughts. Yet throughout life… running. Detached from it, and no wonder. Coming from a place of terror, chaos, and fear, fearing the very people I lived with- family.
So now the fears are from monsters dead. Chet, still around the corner ready to pounce, though now long gone. And others.
The peace of the land stills my fright with its wonder. Summer slips by fast, resolving to savor each moment more thoroughly as the days dissolve, sometimes with regrets for not wringing more out of them.
The flowers are abundant, tended and watered with care, along with the birdbath scoured out and refilled daily- bathers coming right after the fresh water is put in, splashing their feathers, lining up, who’s next?
As the sun sets the bedroom fills with golden light, my retreat, the yellow walls bouncing sunshine with a splash reflecting on walls, mirrors, and hanging sparkly gems twirling in an arc above. Yet another cherished time of day, that hour before dusk as the gold turns to red, orange, and all hues of yellow.