Gratitude doesn’t sleep

I lie awake, staring at the ceiling fan turn round and round, wondering if sleep will ever come.

The cicadas make their presence known outside the window. Their sound has become a lullaby of sorts throughout the summer. A familiar bedtime routine just before sleep.

Where did the summer go? Why have I not been more present? The regimented moments of the school year will soon ensue.

Bella’s gone…again. Every time she leaves it’s the same hollow ache. Raw pain is the worst kind. There’s no time to heal before the wound is reopened.

In the stillness of night, everyone sleeps. My mind reels, offering no reprieve.

“God, please help me find that peace that passes all understanding.” I whisper. Gratitude is the word that sprints to the forefront of my mind. Thankful. Acknowledge, Receive, Bask in the goodness, share it with others.

Only inches away, my lover sleeps.
His strong sculpted arms now resting and still.
The legs that carry him through a day of work are relaxed.
The beautiful back that sustains and provides for our family, now stretched out in slumber.
The shoulders that carry the weight of responsibility, nestle into the bed that knows and gives way to his form.

Rest is such a gift and a beautiful thing to witness.
His chest rises and falls.
Nothing sounds as sweet as life.

My love. That one. The only one to conquer and reign over my heart.
I adore him. And the breath he breathes is the sweetest air of all.
I move closer to his warmth. Smiling…I am overwhelmed with gratitude for this man.
This life.

A girl like me, living a life like this. Having been thoroughly cleansed, now cloaked in grace.

I close my eyes.
Sleep will be here soon.
Quiet tears of thanks run down my face, into my pillow.
The realization that I would follow this man anywhere, settles in.
Where he is, I am.
He is home.

Be and be better, for they existed

“…And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always irregularly.
Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored,
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be.
Be and be
For they existed.”

~ Maya Angelou ~

Tangled hair and gratified senses

Did you smell that?
Someone has filled their chiminea with sweet-smelling spices atop the wood.
Did you feel that?
The first bit of chill in the morning air persuading you to grab a jacket before heading out into the day.
Did you see that?
Leaves shower down and cover the grass like a colorful, crispy blanket.

It’s moving in.
All around.
The trees proudly display their vibrant colors while greeting the new season.
That first sip of apple cider, taken too quickly, singe the taste buds.
A scarf adorns the neck of most passersby.
It’s making a grand entrance.

Orange, gold, red and brown everywhere you look.
It’s time to choose your preferred fall flair.
Why not start with orange?
Let’s begin in a patch of pumpkins and straw filled scarecrows.

Only the most imperfect, perfect pumpkin will do.
So many to choose from.
How can one decide?
Why not pick the one that seems to pick you?