Occasionally I wait for night and gaze atop the loft where all I see are orbs of orange street lights visible at the fore of a white backdrop. Imagine — snow and lumps of it smoothed over houses perched on the mountain side. A fraction of what a snowy Switzerland would be if I could only dream. Life’s been still outside these walls, can’t say the same for a tight schedule at home. From 7am classes to in-person tutoring sessions with my daughter’s teachers and everything in-between, I’ve been overbooked but I run this castle.. yet time stops upon a glass window to behold.
The desert glows where the road bends and in its raw beauty I wonder if this wildflower will ever bloom away from here
Severe winds violently scrape against my window like white noise lulling me into light sleep. Winter storms soothe me better than chicken soup for the soul. Snow flurries twinkling from the moonlight, purifying the ground in solid white. I take comfort in knowing I’ll wake in a frosted wonderland instead of brash sun rays of urgency..
Upon the topic of wild rice soup brought us to a staple of one of my partner’s cherished memories. I had ordered myself a bowl at the Twin City Grill and loved it while Sam felt to mention his mother had a favorite spot they’d go to for that dish, it being twice better. I appreciate the way he allows me into his psyche and I thank him by imbuing our daughter, our boys and I into his prospective memories. A year after and I’ve penciled it into our itinerary for our MN trip. In this way I feel that I honor her by introducing their history into our daughter’s life so that she has an understanding of how important her grandma Ginny will always be to him, while cultivating our own unique and personal traditions that are meaningful to us. And most importantly to me, embracing exactly who she came from in order to form a strong sense of identity because her grandmother was a fine, virtuous woman. I learned second hand that those do not heal completely, never, even though I haven’t lived this kind of strife myself. It’s within these “full circle moments” that they learn to look forward to from which their loved ones live on. I watch his childhood videos and already my mind is making the connections of the type of woman she was. A strong woman, not said lightly, unafraid to defend her own and couldn’t care what others thought of how she lived her life; practical and down to earth. It mirrors in the way he brings me down to reality, keeps me on path. He’s my voice of reason. It shines in his intellectual sister, successful in what she sets out to do and willing to fight for her own. A commendable trait, safe in knowing she will bring justice if anything must come his way. And another woman my daughter can look up to. It all trickles down in the grand scheme of things, I can feel her memory now more than ever as I watch my daughter develop more into herself.
Luna shines past me as I walk by the window until she disappeared behind thick grey sky, soon passing into Earth’s shadow. Lately something is changing around me, the atoms vibrating slower in this thickness that surrounds. Reality is not what it seems and from time I’ve become a bag of bones after being puppeteered by this cosmic renaissance.. I finally surrender and fall deeply into myself, becoming a reflection of the moon’s full metamorphosis.
The Wise Old Owl 