if the water could have sung, I’d have heard it calling me, drawn to its movement, slow and consistent, I felt seen. Instead of the arc of a rainbow in view, colors swirled around twilight as if they knew circles were my favorite, and curves the most fun. Nature’s beauty spoke in only whispers, requiring my heart to listen. Rumi, INSPIRE – the ancients would plea, but a woman like me, lost between hope and regret, will watch for you as the boats drift. Listening. Waiting on timing, once again, knowing somewhere beyond serene, you exist and I’m ready.
The vastness of interpretation reveals beauty, seen by your eyes, and mine. Whether the sky, cerulean blue, creates feelings of cool, or weathered wood, offers time, precious to me and to you. Or even better, the opportunity, to express ourselves honestly, and witness dreams coming true. Regardless of the outcome, the vision is clear, no matter our distance, you’re wished for here.
I’ve been taught to listen to your voice. Your very presence surrounding. With guidance, truth will set me free. Impossibilities become belief, and fear – a season left behind me.
So shall joy find me in the morning dew, while visions shine across the cerulean sky, there’s no fleeing. Only a welcoming off the wings of dawn and it is precious, search me.
Today, be a guest, nature – object of The Creator – sit closer than ever before, logic can’t touch this, and its within Him we all find rest.
Inside me lives a little girl: giggly, impatient and giddy, over new. New experiences, lit brilliantly across northern trails. She, wide eyed, and with extreme expression, has wished on every star, counting them, 1, 2, 3, will he find me? Her neck exposed, eyes full of wonder, up, up, and away. The sky breaks, she no longer feels alone color washes over her face, darkness fades, as night mirrors grace, and light begins to dance. Life comes alive, and her squeal echoes, through the woods. Look! Fingers pointing with urgency, I see what she sees, and tears fall – yet, fully aware of her inner whisper, “Come with me…” I sense my obligations. Haunting.
Just a girl Who pines for love, Truest form Wild devotion Simple Answers And longest conversations. Seen for what lives inside her Nurtured safely Dared to dream And accepted just as she is.
Countryside view, and I want you with me. Yet, it isn’t so, but somehow I found a crystal blue pond reflection, and You. Sunflowers, abound, yet still You. Hum of the open road, You. Music – believe me, again You. Clouds wrote your name in the shape of feathers, You. Wind whispered, you’re not welcome, and I reach for you.
Funny thing about history, what it is depends on the county, country and the weight of its gravity. Feelings collide, as they present themselves, usually contrary to another – and another’s, yet again: Tell me, are you family or friend. Reaction brings emotion to life, as news provides. Hands clap with smiles smiling, tears fall or steam rolls, hearts break while minds run wild holding on to hope – like a child.
The past is full of firsts, today we wonder are there any left? Celebrate the ordinary, and be considered a fool. We should be forcing the extreme and the new! As the Preacher says, “Don’t look back. Keep moving forward.” Watch me pitch a fit, and shake my finger … 100 years ago – This pig, THIS pig…. he was a winner. And Colorado had never looked better.
An exposition in the heat of the day. Toned, an arched formation, and positioned at summer’s mercy, smitten is her coloring. Appearing freckled and sunkissed as the day peaks, and the dew fades, she’ll sway confidently with adoration. Clothed in rose hues, and on display – welcome to her vulnerability, perfected in creation, and encouraged to stay.
“Grass looks good.” even when the state of the other side of the yard is on his mind, his kindness shines through. “Maple trees aren’t worth the work.” and another hundred helicopters fall down, as the wind shifts, he ignores that, too. Focused on the positives, as another day slowly drifts away, I listen to the birds calling each other back to the nest. “Don’t forget to fill their feeder.” is whispered, and I smile. Chair feels comfortable for now, three sit quietly vacant, as the neighbors drive by. Settled, the evening breeze soothes me, I hear, “Good enough,” and before I’m ready dogs bark a good evening to one another. a subtle goodbye felt within, auburn hair brushes my cheek, like vapor, his voice will leave, as today sets behind the trees.
“We had the strength to raise them, we will have the strength to let them go …”
– The Waltons
A friend sent me that quote a few days ago. Soo, true.
I’m sat here, finally, after a busy day. I just read great news from both kids (6 hours after the fact), if I could pat myself on the back I probably would, but I know single moms rarely accomplish big things without help from many. Life is a crazy ride, and I’m so grateful for it. I’ve settled in to empty nesting finally, yet I wish I was with both of them celebrating their accomplishments.
Anyway, just one more quick story from today. Been a heck of a day. ♡
Love you, Aud.
I helped care for a man today who had recently gone to heaven. It was my privilege to do so, even if some would say it’s just my job.
He was the epitome of a real Nebraskan. A Nebraska Gentleman, he served his country, he raised his family, his wife had been cherished, he cared for his farm and community, all the while serving his church.
He taught grown men how to farm in the 1950s, after Korea, and did very well farming his own land. When many folks were selling in the 1980s, he was just hitting his stride. He had a helluva stride, too. I looked forward to seeing his face on Sunday mornings. He would’ve been just my type. Well dressed, and smelled good too, even at over 90, you could see him driving his vehicle to play cards with the boys, or walking to church on a beautiful Spring morning. He was humble, soft spoken, yet incredibly certain, he paid attention to detail and always asked about my children. The true enjoyment on his face over their accomplishments created the best feeling inside of me. He truly cared. I’ll miss him. His presence brought normalcy to my week. I live with regret. I didn’t tell him how impressed I was by his just being HIM.
It was an honor to serve his family today. 95 years – well done, good and faithful servant.
inspiration approaches in a flash excitement extinguished in a word, yet each recorded as swift. life documented in color the end begins with light, yet regardless there’s mourning. slam the book shut allow dirt time to dust, yet both examples of waste. opportunity comes calling change deemed the enemy, yet life vastly awaits.
There are mornings, where if I don’t write what’s waiting, it will continue to sway within me.
Pushing, pulling, and looking for a way to make room. There’s attitude, fear, and control, all of which have caused me to stumble in the past.
The stutter I used, and passed down when I was younger was me – unashamed. Confident in my thoughts and convictions.
I believed wholeheartedly in myself, yet appearing to question my authority to those listening around me. Passed over and rendered entertaining. They didn’t know me very well, did they?
Interesting how I finally feel her again. And she’s amazingly bright and able.
Monochrome sets the scene sneak away for a peek out West of town. Creation mellows at about sunset, and the prairie soothes a concerning brow. Technology, news, just one more issue, back then, we’ll agree, was priceless compared to now.
Tailgate down, jump up – have a seat snuggle in close, let’s dream. No snow to speak of is cause for concern, forgo the complaints, smile, then breathe in deep. There’s water in the Platte, plenty of hay stacked up, and dry boots still warming our feet.
Giggles cause chuckles and life begins to make sense. A porch about here would work out nice, a tire swing for the grandkids with no need for a fence. Leaning into twilight , she’ll manifest –
Waving goodbye to choas – and life a little less tense.
When I close my eyes, a smile appears on my lips I watch visions of a woman thriving, and I’m her. She’s me, and it’s soothing. She’s scurrying from one task to the next, I giggle because ten years ago, she’d never – Clean corrosion off a battery, while bread rises and raking leaves in-between.
Sunday morning hair and makeup still sits where it was placed, dress hung back up and worship was great, closed up the church, now a warm sweatshirt hugs my skin, boots on, and my wranglers secured – I remember when…
Weatherproof the outdoor water spouts, and add additive to the leaf blower while squealing over spiders and a baby possum getting too close. Where does time go?
Windows open allow the air to clean, the house has been awake for hours, the joys of November’s sixty degrees.
Bills are paid , money left over – room to breathe – who do I bless or what’s the need?
I hear a Blue jay trying to prove a point in the tree to the south. Memories are sweet, and I pray you’re proud.
Yet, the mower sits and I think of him – countless ways he offered to help. Seasons of growth and pain. Funny how life gives and takes away.
Life seems simpler now, even on days when struggle hits. I keep praying God reveals what’s next, as I putter along, enjoying every breath.
Her decision to be, Welcoming and welcomed. Taking chances, she survived, yet, now She must let go of difficult dreams. Made to sustain more than many, Considered selfless and it’s been humbling. Listening for the One true voice, Matters most, and stiffening whispers of I told you so, is tough. He was right. Her future is full of unknowns, Who does she become here? To thrive would mean taking a risk, Opportunities will be missed. Overlooked Causing confusion, Nothing worse than blindly choosing Or second guessing What she will be next.
Early summer grounds keeping… We’ll bale hay another day, there’s fish biting, and the sky’s blue, I hear a voice inside me say. Grass is still short over here, let’s sit and tell each other stories. A cardinal calls from over yonder seems simple, but they bring me to you. Verdant pops over azure brilliantly as I lay down to stretch my back. Wind will catch a branch, rhythmic in its timing, and life’s hectic pace slows, my breath less demanding. Nourishment calms a craving, yet this fruit is barely listening. And nothing, no, nothing is ever just perfect. Who would want to exist that way…
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 