in my life.

Somewhere between the idealistic girl I was and the woman I became there was a lot of life! I rarely say it out loud any more, though I still every now and then, hear it's familiar refrain, along with its quiet message of moving on, and silvery linings for those who look. A few fading memories of long ago are kind of a bummer, but I'll take them as part and parcel of life. And honestly, they all came together. the wearing of bruises and days without laughter soon had me singing a different song. I can say this calmly now, that the softness of a baby's cheek and the promise of unconditional love, did rather soften the blow. became the sweet poetry of freedom. my despair and cynicism were discarded like newspapers in a windstorm. I felt the sun wrap it's arms around me, lifting me away from the crippling events of an earlier time, and I felt as if it shined just for me. and my life started to heal.

The old familiar tug of my gypsy soul was too much to ignore. I sold off my belongings in exchange for a home by the Bay. My thoughts were free as I danced along the beach knowing that the tide would wash away my footprints, but that they would live forever in my heart. I married a poet. Gave birth to another son. because of this I did my best.  but it was the role as mystical wife that slayed me. It did me in. brought me to my knees. Yet, I buried my doubts in the sand, hidden in the crumbling castles that were swept out to sea.  rain mingled with tears, impossibly small and perfect, like little gold stars twinkling just for me. fog surrounded me, comforted me like an old sweater, and I welcomed it home. I built roads from rivers that washed the miles behind me into swimming sunrises, while the wind restlessly created lost concepts in yesterday's foundations. I opened my heart. fostered a marriage spun together by dreams and ghosts. I lived by my convictions. I wrote poems about the sky and the sea. grew morning glories and zucchini through my bedroom window. took in stray kittens. danced naked in the waves beneath the moon. took part in a love-in. prayed for peace not war. wore beads instead of diamonds. wove flowers through my hair. hung baseball jerseys on a broken fence. Planted rosemary in a garden that now belongs to someone else. I painted my canvas the color of summer where the sky was the same color as the horizon.  I fell in love with my own dream.

  I learned so much, about how to survive, thrive even. To humble up and admit that there is no valor, definitely no fun, in playing the martyr. It was instinct and inspiration all rolled into one, all in the same day. I knew it was coming, I just wasn't expecting it so soon, still by the time I heard the rumors, my memories had been packed in cob webs, and another decade had flown past. Waiting in a small pastry shop I realized that my dreams were different from his, the incorrect answers to the questions I never asked mystified me. I saw him for what he was. he had been a barrister, a lighthouse man that lived some lives ago. he sat at the piano wearing lavenders and looking lonely as he wrote a song for me. I loved him for this and more but our paths were spent in sad lonely nights  and his songs never became mine. nightless days I wondered if my eternity would consist of tears running endlessly as they did now, washing away the truth. redundant reasons echoed endlessly upon my ears amidst the laughter, becoming empty words and tears on a dusty play ground. I knew then that forever ended yesterday. So compromises were made on both sides.  Emotions reined in and taught to contain themselves a bit. Four lives broken, feelings respected. Comments ordered to make themselves useful or scarce. By Spring everything in it's place, including a double dose of breathing space. Even a click! and a shooch! as one door closed and another was opened.

As the seasons changed,  I started my life again. And somewhere between baking bread and early morning school bells, I tended to people I did not know. I served my share of soup. I cleared tables, cob webs and old ghosts. I began writing, once more. I missed the sea. I tried to convince myself that I loved snow and slush as much as sun and blue skies. That waterfalls are an appropriate substitute for the ocean.

I now live on a leafy street with manicured lawns in a town reminiscent of New England. There's a neighborhood to walk, when the mood strikes, plus a garden in full bloom and a yard with a hammock. There's the freedom to nap at ten, two, or never. Seriously I landed smack dab in the middle of life, which by the way is downright spectacular. and that leaves the door open for a second cup of coffee. I go to Farmer's markets and antique stores. I meet the people I love for coffee, lunch or shoe shopping. I take photos of everything. Read sappy romance novels and watch five hankie movies. I secretly draw and sometimes even paint. I create wondrous things with my hands and two bamboo sticks. I am inspired by everyday life  And in between I remain expectant, curious, and full of joy.

Zucchini Soup



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