Sunday, January 23, 2011


I need to be careful with my words, so that I don't say exactly the wrong thing because even when the wrong thing is true and maybe even a necessary thing it can still be the wrong time and leave a mystery wound.

Maybe I can hole up here in the safe heart of my family, just the four of us, just the five six ten more of us, bonded by tangled familiarity and history and incautious love and reckless speech and forgiveness every time.

I am missing the particular blue of the sea that I grew up with, the cool bracing feel of turquoise flutes holding me close, swirling and swishing against my sun-warmed skin, the taste of salt on my lips, the memory of light and lightness and free.



  1. You are not alone in longing for specific comfort, from the past or by Divine hand. The Midwest and Eastern winter sounds so harsh, that may be a part of it, but there is more. Even temporary hibernation sings to me. We find our closest version of the cave, trusting peace will settle in the silence. Wishing you exactly what you need.

  2. I wish you what you need as well. Some silence, necessary restraint.

  3. I like to think of you free and dancing by the turquoise sea.
    I hope your heart finds that place soon.

  4. Me too. I miss it too.

    I hope you get your wish soon.

  5. god, this is a beautiful post.

    i saw a bald eagle yesterday; and wanted to fly north with him, to the wilderness where i saw him last summer...where we camped under the pine trees, bathed in the cold clean lake, and heard nothing all day but bird calls.

  6. Marylinn, we all have our "cave" where we feel safe and nurtured, don't we. It does indeed take many forms.

    Elizabeth, some silence sounds divine. thank you.

    Ms. Moon, thank you, dear friend.

    deb, love to you, love.

    Rotten Mom, I hope you get there soon, too, wherever it is that you miss. Dreaming helps.

    susan t, your wilderness sounds like nature showing off, so beautiful. I can almost feel the water of that lake.

  7. Today's post linked to this one. Damn, sister. You write beautifully.