The sun peers over the edge of the horizon shedding light on a new day. The rose colors dash through the maple tree and dance on the floor of our walkout basement apartment in the country. It is as if we were eighteen again. We have a studio apartment with a wood cook stove, microwave, and mini-fridge. We have use of the shower and kitchen upstairs. We help out around here in exchange for very low rent. I cook meals. I walk the grounds and hear the birds. I try to figure out if the scat near my favorite trees to sit under is bear or raccoon. I go to my shop where my granddaughter helps me make medicines. Doug enjoys his job. My heart is most recently repaired.
Words of loved ones kept echoing in my mind and I knew I had to do something. “Are you sure you are okay?” “Are you losing weight?” “I can’t believe anyone could take your voice.” “Your heart is so wounded. You need to repair that before you can move on with what your journey holds.” “I know,” I whispered.
Time does heal. A year ago we sat in our homestead on the prairie, tears in my eyes because of the cold. My animals were freezing as were we. There is blessed heat here. Two wood stoves, an electric heater, central heating in the house, and a warm shop. I heard goats yelling from across the street. I wandered down the long driveway to catch sight of them. Screaming, as they do, from an enclosed shed they waited impatiently for their morning meal. I laughed and found myself happy I didn’t have farm chores to do that very cold morning. I walked in the house for another cup of coffee. Doug chops wood for the fire. I am sure we will have animals in the future. I transplanted five Jerusalem artichoke roots from Aunt Donna’s house here. I’ll plant garlic. We should be here to harvest them but if for some reason unforeseen I cannot, I enjoy planting them all the same. A buck passes the window. Big floppy ears. I wish he allowed hugs. The frost melts as the sun hits it. The alpacas next door slowly making their way through the pasture. It is magical here.
I went to our favorite hiking place. I went alone. I chose rocks. I put two on the east side of the small circle I was creating. I put one in the south. One in the west. One in the north. Three in the middle for Father Sky, Mother Earth, and the Ceremonial fire. I offered tobacco to the Creator. Sprinkled cedar for the spirits and my ancestors. I offered sage. I placed a larger rock symbolizing my heart in the south where childlike wonder and fun reigns. I released the harsh words told to me that made me quit writing. I released the loss of our things and our lifestyle and embraced the now and the lesson and journey we are on. I released my broken heart. An eagle flew over the valley as I sat there. I breathed in the fresh air of life and smiled.
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I miss hearing from you, Katie. I’m glad all is well and you are healing. I hope you’ll continue to keep in touch if you have the time. If not, at least keep up your blog. You write very well. Writing is also healing!
I have stationary ready to write you!