Always A Monday

I listen to the crickets outside, and decide to have some coffee.

Yesterday was beautiful for me, and I am grateful. Some friends and I went to a local lake with a beach, and spent the day. It was a crisp day, with lovely skies, throw a leech in and some moss, some sand, and the words between three women, and there it was. 5 hours gone in a whisper, a cloud, water and a word.

My paranoia is mostly gone, I have no desire to drink or cut. I did start getting "iffy" about 1 PM yesterday, until I remembered to take my anti-Evil pills, late. I can't do it without my medication. No more than I can do "it" without: AA meetings, therapy, friends and you.

I wake this morning with deeper friendships, a sunburn, and some mineral water, which I bought in excess, in an orgy of self-indulgence, for the day on the water. Since the 50th birthday party for one of the women, which included a bonfire and some s'mores, I have come to the conclusion that to turn 50, will be an enriching experience.

I know, what a bland statement, which carries none of the deep feelings involved, or the knowledge acquired over a life time. A sentence that has nothing of the experience of sisterly bonding, serenity like emeralds within, or knowledge of a tree and it's roots.

All the good things aside, there are the times that can curl one's hair in horror. But the brain tends to dim the memory of pain: there are other scars that last. I have invisible disabilities, my scars don't show on the outside, which is a puzzlement for some.

I mean, I look healthy, why do I need help of any kind? These are the people who judge a book by it's cover; they do not stop and think. And, you know what? They don't deserve our attention this morning.

It's another wandering post, when I have a journey to make. I must be patient, and realize that sometimes, the path meanders a bit. I say this: who have seen a Lady's Slipper in the National Forest. I, who knows the ferns that grow along the stream in the forest. I know the blue lichens that grow on rocks. And I know what the roots of the trees are saying.

I know the cold, chapped hands of Spring, and the loneliness of a Fall's leaf. I have known a stone of time, a grain of sand, the lapping sound at the water's edge. And now I know fire, and the sounds of women singing in the forest. I have stood in a herd of horses, and heard their speech, and I know what the scent of my Mother's skin was.

I have a place to lay my head, and some water, and yogurt. Everything else is pure joy: the animals, the perfume bottle of Chanel No. 5, the gold clock. The friends, the terror, the dreams, the field. The seen scars, and the unseen. A bracelet made of shell...

My chance acquaintance with you.