Do you ever catch yourself caught between breaths and waiting for something to happen? For winds to change in directions that fill empty rooms and blow breezes scented with new beginnings … I do. I sit with toes curled beneath soft blankets, feeding on the cold that is nipping at my nose. I reflect on strange weeks, from finding out that my grandmother read my book to learning someone who’s words I knew, but flesh escaped me – had passed. I stepped around a corner and ran into a wall I thought I had removed, and then wrote words I swore I had already finished.
Days reveal small victories but twist with strange setbacks that work hard to overshadow the blessings that really should win. Love on my shoulder taps and rosie lips leave blasts of empty memories. But I want to remember, and I am desperate to keep what I see today and those that have reached out and stayed – current – in my world.
Hands seem to slip away often and there are not enough words to make all the things, dull or shiny, that I want in this world – stay. A strange week of reflection has brought new faces to my door, and old ones, too. A renewal was in order and I thank the small things for reminding me that the big things are merely dust at my feet. I fall prey to the tiredness that calls and often want to pack it up and curl once again beneath the safety of my blanket. The comfort of the sun always brings me back and I am reminded that there is no score to be kept, and if I hide beneath something for too long, there are no memories to be made.
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” – Maya Angelou