oh yes.

full days.

i was raised up believing i was somehow unique
like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes
unique in each way you can see

and now after some thinking
i’d say i’d rather be
a functioning cog in some great machinery
serving something beyond me

but i don’t, i don’t know what that will be
i’ll get back to you someday soon you will see.

She already had this song, because she’s my brain sister. And as we sat in the ‘talking light’ after she flipped the switch over her head, we spoke truth. We ate a cookie sent from the most understanding mother in the world {mine}. And I didn’t have to explain a thing.

Three of us drank milkshakes and ate french fries, and the red-and-white place reminded me of the other one. The one where DM got a small pot of honey. Ha. Except we sat in a booth and instead of feeling younger than I should, I felt older than I should. It was good to stretch.

And then we drank tea that came from far away, and it tasted like honey minus the sweet. In a handmade mug from greener days. It was rich to hold such goodness in my hands and sit with my knees tucked up under my chin. And I didn’t have to explain a thing.

Lots of other things happened, too. We sat in a dark place that was especially dark after the blinding brightness of very new snow. And laughed. It was new, but it was good. Even better than I expected {and I’m an optimist}.

And two of us sat for a long while in the great-smelling green place, safe and warm from the hard white. And even more heart came out. And plans, and fears, and labels, and laughs. So many laughs.  And I didn’t have to explain a thing.

Rody hill is pretty icy this time of year…Maisy biffed it and hit the right snow bank.  An old man who looked like Prof Norris tried to help me. So did the little leprechaun man who needed to trim his sideburns. Even though I didn’t know them, for some reason I wasn’t afraid {as I usually am}. Jason came and dug me out.  I felt so very taken care of by three gentlemen. I was a lady.

And we sat for even longer in a real house, with real food, and candles with real flames. It smelled like a good place to rest. Good people lived there, and we baked and danced and sang.  And Settled. And just…were.

I drove away, but I didn’t have to be anywhere, or anybody. So I wasn’t. I pulled into the parking lot by the lake.  It was midnight, and the whole village had been sleeping for hours.  Only some lights were on. And alltheway across the lake I could see the very, very still lights glimmering.  I looked across and remembered the deep, olde feelings I had felt there. I walked been there, on foot, at dawn. I had driven there in the rain to that one Wilco album. I had bicycled there so very bymyself on days filled with wanderlust, through the trails and out the other side of them to the secret world beyond them.

There, behind me, the hill covered in big, old trees.  That is not just a hill.  It is so full. There are the old paths I would run at sunrise. The houses that hold printing presses, grey cats, old photos, French profs.  Stone walls.  That’s where I found those tiny sneakers, abandoned by some imaginative and free soul of a child.  The fountain is covered with a tarp for the cold season, but if you ask the right people they’ll tell you it’s a tower in the process of being built.  I’ve waded in that fountain, but I didn’t find any pennies. I never told anybody that’s the reason I set off the fire alarm at midnight.  And if you stay up ’til four in the morning watching the stars, and half-expecting the world to end at any moment, sitting right there on the edge of that great circle footpath you can see the shadows morph into monsters you never knew your past shared with your brother and sister.  And in the late summer sunset, the Adirondacks under the willow hold you just the right way, if it’s not too windy.

I sat there eating the ciabatta I had bought earlier at the Bakafe.  And then I laughed, because I thought it was so romantic that I was eating ciabatta at the lake by myself.  Oh, I can be so cliche. I laughed at myself again, and ate more bread. The flashing light by the Winona bushes reminded me that this wonderful little village’s business really does end after 10 p.m.

I drove away after I communed with Him. Still communing with Him.

I am so very at peace. Because if I never left, I wouldn’t know. But I know. And He is good.

And in the words of the sweetest soul I’ve ever met, “…but it’s good to be back.”


One thought on “oh yes.

  1. I read this when you first wrote it, though from further away it makes me feel so affectionately wistful. Anticipating much, brain sister.

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