Dear God... This song is stuck behind the lump in my throat. I have been playing it in my head for awhile now. I remember playing it before in such an early time in recovery. I didnt know what it was to love back then - so I didnt know what it was like to lose. I heard it at the beach yesterday but sat still and let the waves drown it out. I pleaded with God that there must be something awful fu@king wonderful on its way into my life. I wanted to scream but a giant tennis ball of grief made it more like a whisper. I wrote in the sand a favorite prayer, as I have a thousand times or more. God, take my will and my life, guide me in my recovery, show me how... The waves came right up and washed it all away before I could finish the last sentence show me how to live. I looked down where the message had already been taken by my Higher Power and finished the sentence, and then quietly whispered without her. I hugged myself and cried until there was nothing left to feel but the tide slowly creeping up my legs and threatening my pockets of grief. I filled my shirt with treasures from the sea. My fist held 2 whole tiny sand dollars with little tiny center holes. I found a soaking wet feather that couldnt take one more battering. I found a couple of rocks, and a heart-shaped thin shell. The little boy who always hugs me goodbye three or four times each time I see him found a little piece of driftwood. It had grooves in it like fingers had rubbed it for a thousand years in the same place. He gave it to me to hold, and then said it was his. He and our playmate went off once again to find more. And when they returned empty-handed, as we packed up, he handed it to me again and said it was mine to keep forever. And he knows me well enough to know I will. These perhaps is the first altar I collected that is mine. I have building altars and collecting treasures for us for so long, but this one is mine alone. I woke up with five little furkids this morning, mid morning actually. Been watching them sleep peacefully, knowing I will take care of them until their last breath. I listened yesterday to a little girl whose eyes are far too old for her age. We were talking of divorce. She asked about the dogs. She said at least we dont have real kids that will get their hearts broken when parents separate. It broke mine to hear what she felt in hers. I wanted so badly to mend her but to go back in time to the first tear is far greater than any human power can reach. She couldnt talk more after that. I left her to be and then laid out my treasures from my pocket. One of the sand dollars had broke in half in my pocket. The heart-shaped shell had become so many pieces it was unrecognizable. And I hugged myself once more knowing the journey ahead, and whispered Aint Life a Brook Jessie
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 18:38:35 +0000