From where I stand I see a sleepy, needy dachshund who has been stuck like glue to my side for a solid week now. He has insisted on being in my face, in my space, on my lap, under the covers and next to me anywhere and everywhere constantly. Say what you will if you're not a 'dog person' but he knows when I'm leaving or when I'm about to leave again. It makes me sad to know that I will have to ultimately leave him home.
From where I stand, I a see a sunlight spot trying to peek in through the family room skylight after this cold snap and bitter January air we've been struggling with. I see a slight glimpse of sun through the thirteen windows of the sun porch and the broken, bare winter trees in the backyard. I see the remnants of a blizzard starting to wash away with rain.
From where I stand I saw an anxious heart and stirring mind. But I've found a tremendous amount of new peace and courage. This time home has been trying and getting ready for a wedding and move and life change is easy to psych yourself out for. I was talking to a friend recently and was starting in on all my worries. I kept bringing them up and dumping them out in the safety of our conversation. Suddenly she said, "Wait, but you'll be with him. You guys will be together." No matter what else happens, I feel like I've spent so much of my emotions, so much of my time and energy worrying about being separated from what I've known or what I'm familiar and comfortable with, that I've forgotten who I'm doing it with. In all the chaos and change, I've fixated on the looming presence of change and insecurity that I've let it slip from the forefront of my mind who I'm doing this adventure with, and why I'm doing it with him.
From where I stand I see a home created by people who love me, numerous blessings through provisions and comforts we are fortunate to have. A fireplace still with the coals from last night's fire when people cannot afford heat, or the remains of today's baking experiment as I experiment with my looming identification. I see scattered pictures of new family babies and growing up cousins and brothers and pets. I see touches of my mother's style and Christmas decorations that escaped the clean up by labeling themselves as winter instead. I see the past weeks of traffic through that family room in my memory; new friends and old, wise friends and long talks, gatherings around the fires with parents, late dinners and tv trays. I guess I never really will leave this place afterall, or rather maybe it won't leave me. I'll bring pieces of it into my own home, visions and memories of it into my future.
No comments:
Post a Comment