Confession

I can smell fall today. On the edges of the sun. In the wet relief of rain on the pavement.

Have you ever wanted so much, to bursting, afraid that you could not possibly get it? I keep asking myself, what good thing I did to deserve such sweetness. Look at my life… there are such wonderful things in the small singing birds, in the small fragments of simple prettiness. There is so much to be thankful for.

Complicated? Yes, sometimes.

Easy? No.

But there are moments when I feel so … full.

Last night the dogs could sense the coming rain. In their giddy dog ways, darting across the summer burnt grass to the trees, the sky turning bright gray. A natural instinct. Like the scent of fall in the air. Something we know, deep in our selves. Deeper than our egos, or petty meddling. Deeper.

The sliver of truth, buried in our hearts.

Sometimes he says things that both thrill and frighten me. (Is it wrong to say, I want that too?) When did I get so jaded? I want to shake my self out like a rug, let the bitterness and fear drift out over the tall grass and vanish into the air. I want to believe. Hope. I keep listening for that sliver of truth to contradict what my heart wants... and it never comes. The doubt. There is only quiet. A quiet of a sleepy house, not of an abandoned one. (Does that make sense to only me?)

Love is only the start. Remember, I always say… “Love is an action word”. Time tells. Oh yes, I know. Cliché. (Who cares anyway, if the words are well worn?) Slowly, this will unfold…. Summer turns to fall, fall to winter.

There is more to fall than the leaves and the golden sky. It’s a time when I hear katydids singing, when I can look at the full moon and map my heart on it’s face as plainly as I can see these words here. Fall is a time to stretch yourself, to take that final leap into the cool water and kiss your summer stained skin goodbye. It’s when we get real. When we are less frivolous.

Fall is when I shall see if the sliver has spread, if the truth has a voice.

When I might stop talking in riddles and say it as plain as I feel it.

G.

The Littlest Birds Sing the Sweetest Songs...

Drive

Confession

I passed my physical testing today. Against some personal odds. And sure, it was not the best score… but sometimes… passing is enough. Enough to put passion back into one’s heart. Enough to light the fire again.

I want this. I want something more than what is right now.

The dream? Perhaps. Or something more. A calling… a silent whisper in the dark hallways of my self. The closer I get, the more of the whisper I can translate from darkness to light.

G.

Something Blue..........

"Spread your flesh on me
I need you wild tonight" ~ Jack Harlan


My bed seems empty. The apartment more bare. I am pool of water with only the ripples as memories.

Why is it that the presence of someone only makes you realize how alone you are in their absence? It makes me feel more vulnerable. More on the edge of myself.

I suddenly realized that there was no point of return, that if it came down to it, there was no preventing the ache of losing. If I risk nothing, I gain nothing. Despite the dangerous coffee shop girls or the shoe fetish.

But this hardly touches the other things I wonder about. (For other days... ) How couples match one another... when does that start? Please, lord... shoot me if I match my shirt to his shoes. Or what happens if I wake up one morning and it's gone. Is that possible? Or... god forbid... my friends think he is only half as amazing as I did.

No worries. There are always lips on this happiness. Always that shadow of doubt. (Or is there? It could be just damage control.)

It's pettiness.

What really seems to matter is trying to figure out if his eyes are green or brown. Or both.

I am going to savor the missing. It means that there is more to know, more to want... more ... more...


G.

In The Eye Of the Beholder...

Kent District Graveyard

Forgotten Gate

Confession

I wanted to say something about being lost.

It’s a quiet thing, a still place that we find ourselves. Timidly making plans, aching for the reality of coming home, finally. Seeing that things have changed while we were gone, but filling with that inexplicable peace when we walk through the door. In being found.

Letting someone in is difficult. For me, especially. I like the safety net of secrets. Those hidden shelves high up out of reach. Yet, there is this stubborn woman in me who says all that is bullshit. That to live life completely, there should be no secrets. Only surprises.

Love is something I was not expecting to find here. In this quiet place. The secrets don’t seem as insurmountable now. And slowly, I will empty those shelves.

I want a world where I am found. Every day, coming across that sudden happiness, like walking through the front door after a journey. Grateful. Unexpected.

I want my world with you in it.

G.

The Littlest Birds Sing the Sweetest Songs...

Lake

Hicks Lake

Lake