Strange Days

Things are strange. Time is accelerating, a loop of rinse and repeat days, invisible G-forces holding me in place while life feels like it’s passing right on by. Another year gone. 

There are lots of things I’d like to do with whatever time I have left, sure, but there is a reliable peace in this Groundhog Day existence that I struggled too many years for, and I’m not ready to give it up. A simple errand can draw peace and patience out like a salve. The World is nothing if not a thief of joy. 

While the unstoppable flow of time rages on, I value these moments, these days, mundane and strange though they may be. 

The Santa Hat

You were sorely missed at Christmas dinner last night. The whimsical Santa hat you once wore, honoring the seat you held at the head of the table,  was both joyful and heartbreaking—our first family gathering since your funeral. 

Everything was the same and altogether foreign. Your car was in the driveway. I half expected to hear you shout, “Hey, get in here!” as we walked through the front door. There was even a football game on, but the room and your favorite chair were empty, your absence palpable. 

Many tears were shed, mostly through laughter, as we all shared memories of you. You would have loved it, you’d have been right there laughing along with us. Part of me believes you were, there, watching over us with that silly Santa hat on, tears in your eyes and a huge smile on your face. 

Miss you Daddy.  

A Winter Nap

The world has been blanketed in monochromatic grey for days, a prelude to Winter’s nap. Some feral part of me wishes I could lose myself in a liminal forest, curl up under fallen leaves of an ancient oak to be reborn come Spring. 

Maybe it’s not feral, it’s ancestral, the Calling of the Bears—a time for rest, reflection and receiving messages from the heart of Mother Earth. I’m grateful for a quiet mind and a soul that stills to listen. What an amazing gift.