” So, come to the pond, or the river of your imagination, or the harbor of your longing. And put your lip to the world. And live your life.” Mary Oliver
I’ve plenty of time now to talk to myself. Empty morning house and moving slowly through the rooms.
My thoughts, an exchange with my soul, so true it’s a wonder the dogs don’t hear and
Tilt their heads towards me as if to say, “Oh, it’ll be okay.”
Today, I woke and made plans as if my day was free. Like a silly survey to guess my type or temperament, I saw myself answering,
What would you do today if you could do anything?
I saw myself, assuredly, giving voice to my wish.
“Well, I’d drive to Georgia and my mama would be there. We’d sit on her dock after eating good fattening food somewhere, havin’ gone to town and to K Mart, buying stuff we didn’t need.”
That is what I’d do. I can’t say why; but, I’m missing her more this time, this coming back to the day she died just before her birthday time.
Grieving after a long time is even more a secret sorrow now. It’s not a heavy grief, more a wish kept secret for the sake of its sacredness.
So, I’d have gone to sit by the pond with my mama, maybe walk around the dam, see if the beavers had clogged up the “run around” and listen for the geese in the distance
Just so I could hear her say, ” Here they come.”
I went to the country today, to my daughter’s. Later than I had planned, I was rushed and annoyed.
“It’s okay if you don’t have time to walk.” I said.
“Oh, we’re going on an adventure.” she answered.
We walked on curving paths through fields and red moist clay. The dogs ran ahead, turned back to catch up and chased after a rustling in the woods, just a little ways, we’d call and they’d come right back.
We turned a sharp turn, she asked her dog, “Eli, you know where we’re going?” and said to me, “This way.”
” A pond? ” I asked.
“”Yeah.” she said and we made our way through the briars and branches to the place under the pines where the water rushed through.
She couldn’t have known. My soul, I suppose led us all there, my daughter, the dogs, my mama and me.
I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story. This week’s post is about grief? What I’ve come to know as my sacred secret as I move through the month of January, finding feathers everywhere.