Homesick

Homesick is more than longing for a place or yearning for that in the distance.

Homesick is an aching want: return of self or other, to another time and a now closed door to an unknown future

“May I walk with you?” he asked.

And my heart skipped a beat.

Just simple, warming words. A moment of intense connection across the distance of two bodies forbidden to touch. Oh but how the mind spun out images of what might’ve been but couldn’t, wouldn’t be…

Do you have memories like this? Splinters in time fondly recalled, still powerfully clear?

Why did this come back to me just now-fifty some years later? Do you wonder these things: was this the day way back when? Or is this a day significant to him?

Impossible to know. Unless serendipity delivers an odd “coincidence” I have yet to discover. But maybe it’s just my heart calling out, “I remember previous moments. They meant something to me.”

We parted, never to share another time like that. And now he is long gone from the world. And I go on.

Isn’t it strange the twists life makes in the strands connecting us, sometimes severing the ties? Why must we part?

I miss you.

Maybe that’s all I had to realize, and a door to the past opened.

How I will love seeing you on the other side in the someday…Separation is not real. Every moment still exists in every other and so do we.

My Everything

My everything is you

You who shine

You who send your light afar and warm the dank and dark and dreaded

You who give and give and do not give up, but grow in your giving and have more

My everything is happiness

A nesting

A place of being

Inside, not outside myself

My everything

Is you

You who capture my attention again and again

You who continue to show all that is good

Thank you for being you

Calling Mom

The night before my mother’s 11/11 birthday, I slept restlessly.

I woke to see 11:11 on the digital clock. Again at 2:22.

I consider repeated numbers to be signals, little “hellos” from my mom who left her body years ago.

I finally slept, and dreamed.

My husband and I, and a number of strangers, were in the outdoors on wilderness adventure.

We climbed higher and higher on rock hillsides then across wet and mossy ledges. We slid on our seats, maneuvering with our feet to keep from going off the edge.

I tried to keep up, but slid over off. I slowed my pace, lost sight of them. I eased over an oddly situated shelf constructed of wood. Underneath were supplies for the journey ahead.

A man appeared to assist in making selections, but I wanted to consider the items myself.

I rejected a heavy automobile tire, various boxes I couldn’t carry.

I found a large hood with attached headset. I put it on.

“Want to call your mom?” The man asked.

“Of course,” I responded.

But the wires dangling from the headset weren’t attached to anything.

Would Mom have a headset wherever she is?

How do I reach her?

That’s when I woke from the dream – on the morning of her birthday: fifteen years after she passed.

I’d love to talk with her.

But I know I don’t need an ill fitting hood or headset to reach her. I’ll make it through. I’ll navigate the slippery cliffs of life ahead. Love will guide me.

I know my mom is not “gone.” She’s not here in her body.

But sometimes, we still communicate. Especially in the outdoors I believe nature assists us in realizing our fondest hopes.

Thank you, Mom, for the dream about calling you! I love you.

#outdoors, #nature, #love, #adventure