Once upon a time mornings were really hard for me.

Now mornings are an opportunity for me to Begin. An opportunity to sit in the moment and decide.

I have good days and bad days but my worst days are the ones I don’t start right.

This morning the sun was shining, so I positioned my yoga mat near the window and raised my face to that glorious star. I breathed in and out.

I prayed.

I sat and sipped a cup of tea, peppermint to get me going.

I pulled my bullet journal out and doodled, I planned, I poured out my fears and anxieties. I reflected on all the many wonderful things in my life. Like a cup of tea in the sunshine. Electricity. A hot shower.

Life is so noisy, even here under quarantine, finding a moment of silence is a gift, and that gift is granted every morning.

I love to sit in the mornings and sift through the soft sounds of the morning. Cats padding around the house, the dog chuffing her way through a dream, children stirring, birds up in the trees about their business, the hum of life.

I don’t cope with changes as gracefully as I should, the constant of a morning ritual gives me balance when life around me starts to wobble. And I am grateful for it. A chance to focus on what gives me purpose and direction. An opportunity to decide. And a few moments of peace.

K~

When I was very little I remember watching a couple of white-haired old ladies singing and dancing as though they were so many years younger than they actually were. And of course, in my childish way, I asked if maybe they were being a bit silly for their age. One of them replied that, to me, she was old and frail, but to her, on the inside, she felt young and every bit as silly as I was accusing her of being.
I didn’ understand, how could I? I looked in the mirror and saw my youth, my body had not yet begun to die around me.

I turned 36 on Sunday. And it was a strange day, one of acknowledgment. I am not old certainly, and yet I am not young either. My body HAS started to die around me and my soul cannot comprehend the limitations that are beginning to show up like hairline cracks on glass. Someday I will shatter, I know that now.
But my being, what makes me, me, is still there. That little girl who wonders at the audacity of elderly people dancing with abandon is still there and she thinks that if she looked in the mirror she would see the bright, shining youth of not so many years ago.

I am so deeply grateful to be 36 though. Someone jokingly asked if this was my 29th birthday, wink, wink. And of course I laughed along, but really I am happy to be 36, I will be happy to be 37 next year. Every single year of my life has taught me something so valuable I cannot imagine going backward and losing that precious knowledge, no matter how hard it was to obtain. I have been blessed to have people come in and out of my life who have shared with me, often without even knowing that they were doing so, so much deep wisdom. I have had people in my life who have been dark, and full of things that are sorrow and despair, and they have taught me. I have been blessed to have people who brought me so much light and joy and they have taught me. I have learned that appearances can be deceiving. No one is what their exterior package presents. No one.

Just like those beautiful white-haired women who embraced their lives with a strength that was not physically seen.

And I am profoundly grateful to have been taught by them.

K~

It is funny how much one remembers when someone close to your heart dies, as though in their leaving they open a gate,  a way to temper the aching, grieving beat, beat, beat of a heart still living.

Papa was words that have not been said, he was mythical, as perfect as a man can be. He was simply there, when I was a lost child without a father, he was a father, and in my world that was full of fathers and mothers but empty of love, he was love.

He healed wounds, he cried with me, taught me, counseled me, laughed with me, shared with me, listened to me.

He was Papa. And Papa is gone.

And he is happy, and healthy, and whole.

There is a family that is rejoicing in his return.

I was never going to be ready to say good bye. I still don’t know how.

K~

 

This Angel and I are rarely separate.

Even now she sits on my lap, Tilly snuggling close. We are on the couch, watching Martha Speaks on the TV. Martha will tell you what it is all about it.

Martha, a cozy blanket and two snuggly babies.

It doesn’t get better then this.

K~