
on Sunday
I woke up to droplets
of rain tap dancing on
my windows.
“God is crying. He is
not pleased with us.”
Made in his image, yet
we destroy everything we
touch.
I would cry, too.
And, I do.
on Sunday
I woke up to droplets
of rain tap dancing on
my windows.
“God is crying. He is
not pleased with us.”
Made in his image, yet
we destroy everything we
touch.
I would cry, too.
And, I do.
I buy a few things that give me peace; fuzzy socks, The Light We Carry by Michelle Obama, amber, sandalwood, and lavender-scented candles, and sink into the first days of the new year losing pain and heartache, yet honoring grief.
A mourner does not need to discuss their mourning.
I take down the Christmas decorations before the 1st can whisper “goodbye,” and I feel complete relief. The space I missed is free of red and green colors and thistles from an aging artificial tree.
I have found my way into a friend’s heart who is a crush — who has found herself attached, too. She doesn’t want to be. I can tell. But here the two of us are — wading through unknown waters. And while I’ve been writing about and focused on her for a year and six months, she is succumbing.
I have a penchant for falling silent when I am angered. I do this to review what I should say — think about how I should approach the subject. She is the opposite — what comes to her at that moment is spouted and sprayed in your direction without warning.
A day chanced upon us and a rebuttal of hers had silenced me, which she’d recognized immediately when I did not return a response. My behavior placed her in a space to understand my silence as a warning — to embrace it as the moment of calm before a storm.
Others were witnesses — knowing her slight, she acknowledged my silence and advised them she needed to step away to check on me. Funny thing is, I’d been distracted. I moved to silence to take care of something else, but she now knows what triggers me — what causes me to shell up for just a bit before I make my presence known again.
Her birthday is coming up, and I made simple purchases; some things to brighten up her day. Nothing major. I love gift-giving on a budget. I love seeing the lives in my life circle the sun again.
I await the day I will share these with her.
At this stage in my life, I reflect more. I find a comfortable space, sit back, read, then connect the stories of the books I have read with moments and events in my life.
It is an odd practice, yes, but it brings me the sustainability I have been seeking.
The dog, who is also aging, jumps into my lap and fetal-positions herself without my consent, and I allow her this peaceful display. I sip my choice of decaffeinated coffee and close my eyes.
“When will I move past the past?” “When will I allow myself permission to feel love again?” “How can I discern love and admiration from lust and temptation?”
I reflect to ensure I can still determine what is best for me. I reflect to ensure I can admit wrong and accept defeat. I reflect to ensure I will conquer my demons before they can stifle me into the pits of total despair.
As I read through various posts on Instagram and WordPress, I noticed people who I follow sharing the vibes they wanted and the foods they intended to have for New Year’s Day. I tilted my head and whispered to myself, “I no longer crave tradition.”
I detest black-eyed peas, and I already had collard greens for Christmas. Cabbage had not been a craving, so I did not cook it, either. Instead, on the first day of the new year, I made barbecued chicken wings, steamed asparagus, and roasted red potatoes.
I did not invite a man to be the first person to walk through my door. I did not do laundry the day before or take the garbage out, either.
These things I did on the actual holiday, itself. I did them because I can — because they needed to be done — because when I did them; I wanted to.
Unbound to tradition or superstition, I still awakened with God-issued breath in my lungs on Monday, January 02, 2023.
I love my plants. I have a peace lily named Dora, a croton named Lyric, and a crossbreed aloe vera succulent named Jupiter.
I have shared a story or two where I mentioned them before, but I document their progress. I construct videos/reels via Instagram, and I share photos as well.
It is a thing of beauty to watch life take place before my eyes.
I am a witness to inescapable barriers of constant growth with these three, and it warms my heart.
Every day, I am growing into who I want to be, and the peace that comes along with this is indescribable. I no longer wait for anyone’s approval as it pertains to things I want to do for myself.
I do not seek anyone’s opinion on what I believe is best for me and my life.
I no longer search for love in the hearts of those who have not yet found it for themselves. Sometimes, this can be a hard one. With the crush, she’s here . . . I know she’s here, but deep down, I also know there is the impending possibility we will only be able to be friends. And for me, that is okay, too.
I cater to myself more fondly and with a passion, I could not conjure up for at least three years.
I love myself in the totality of the word “love”, and I imagine great things for my mind, body, and soul for the future ahead.
Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.
Friday Framing
a haiku
beautiful background
a cold pond untouched today
God’s whispered blessings
The imagery alone for this piece made me want to read it again and again.
For bite-sized morsels of creative excellence about nature, life, struggles, growth, and everything in between, Elancharan’s blog is the space for it all.
baby snake imagines itself as a coiled root unearthed and then an autumn twig and finally transforms into a locomotive slowly sliding across the tar into the dark belly of the undergrowth
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