Hesitant to Return - 8 January 2017

The universe has shifted in ways I would have never predicted.

My mirror and backbone have vanished.

I've been very hesitant to return to this page.

The man who used to come through the door at the end of day to joke about fruit in my cooking is no longer alive.

Volumes of journals rest next to my bed as my intimate companions of these past almost 18 months.

The river of healing I wrote about in August 2014 still flows and holds more value and preciousness than I could have imagined when we were joined there in our service of healing and forgiveness.

The universe has shifted in ways I would have never predicted.

Ice surrounds my trees and bushes right now, but warmer air is moving in. The dripping has begun, with potential for flooding.

Could warmer air be coming to me, too?

Could the ice containing my existence, protecting me from further harm, soon start to drip, to wane, to vanish away?

Could flooding call me back to my life? Back to my heart? Back to my creativity?

I don't know.

All I know is that I returned to this page today trying to continue my stories -

First time since the immediate ravages of Rod's death.

There, I typed it.

I don't think anyone reads this blog.

There's something quite weird about putting my thoughts out there online for anyone to see. 

There's also something that hints of life, life taking an itsy bitsy chance at creating again.

His life force flew out the window with such certainty and focus that it took my breath away, too.

But, I need it back.

I really need it back.

The universe has shifted in ways I would have never predicted.