Anyone whose been to Maui could tell you that the moment you get off the plane the wind greets you with a big warm hug and whispers into your ear “I love you so much already.” I would come to know this wind like a watchful elder who chooses their words carefully and are not to be ignored.
In the hour of your death, I wrote these words for you, Patricia.
Hometown. Side Street.
I would walk around with a book in my hand, brush my teeth with a book in my hand, take out the trash with a book in my hand, wash the dishes while leaning over the counter, reading the water splashed pages that I couldn’t tear my eyes off of.
The half-cursive lettering just flows off of the page, like a quickly moving story through time. This was indeed a basic and beautiful time for me; a period of vital self-discovery while I focused solely on my humble home and young child. But what was also revealed to me is how truly lonely and ill-prepared in life I felt at the time. Financial woes, weight insecurities and constantly feeling upset with my husband and annoyed with my friends and sister. Persistent struggles with insomnia. And always the longing for a second child.
You can pry a flower open only to have its petals fall apart. Or you can plant, water, sing to, love on and shine upon a bud and just wait for that glorious bloom. That is true strength, after all, the patience in one’s breath, the willingness to nurture and permit, the allowance of time.
November 2018 will forever be the month I lived towards.
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The redundant times in life are like the tempo in poetry, like the chorus in song. Find joy in the daily cadence of your life. Don’t take these mellow times for granted. This is what abundance feels like.