Weaving

The late afternoon sun filters through spruce and hemlock as I sit here with my juice and my jacket on. I was ready to say goodbye to this so long so. As beautiful as this leafy world is, it is not serving me. I know I am a child. I know I am not my age. I cannot reason the way that would help me function best and make the appropriate decisions. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. I live with this. Choosing another city wasn’t easy. It’s ripped me apart, exposed my harsh vulnerability which just makes me want to run and hide. What if? and that? I don’t have what I used to have which was also the protection of a Family. A Place. People. A Life. It is my task now to create a new one from a fabric so thin, not sure I know how to weave anymore. Serves me not to think about the past and all I did then. All that exists is putting one painful foot in front of the other. Will I have enough to eat? A clean pretty place to sleep? Is my mind so confused that I cannot put up a lamp to read? Can I wash a tub that isn’t yet mine? Will my mark stay on it? Do I contain enough of an imprint any longer that it will stick? Become mine? As a woman, this is what I’ve done is leave my mark on things, people, places. My territory. My boys. My bathroom. My car. I need to fashion some way out of air to make this mine now. Trying to remember...........don’t rush. How can a calligrapher create a beautiful character without time and a brush? Breathe. Water. Sit. Affirmations. Do some and then begin again. I remember this from a past life. Just do the task in front of you which will lead to the next one. Small parts, that’s what I Can do, is small things. Trust. Believe. Have faith. I shall weave something glistening out of nothing much to speak of. Or better yet, get of the way and let it become what it shall. This is a puzzlement, a new city, a new life. But, I will be with it. I will be present as this new life shows me all there is to see.