Today is, was, my fifty-second birthday. It is the end of the day and the sun has just finished setting. The stars are starting to appear overhead. I’m in my hammock, alone for the first time today.
My life is a dream. It is the dream a little girl with glasses and long pigtails didn’t know she was allowed to have. One of my most distinct childhood memories is of being alone outside. We had a metal swing set for a time until wasps built a nest in the crossbar, making it unusable. The wind was blowing and I was letting it push me. There was a sense of loneliness, of stillness.
Tonight I’m letting the slight breeze rock the hammock and I’m listening to the dwindling birdsong and the rising symphony of crickets and frogs. The cat is beside me purring. The night is so still. I am alone but there is no loneliness. I’ve spent the day with my people. I’ve loved and been loved. I’ve had hugs and put little ones in time out. I’ve been pampered.
Now they are gone to their own homes and Chris is at work.
This is the year that leads up to fifty-three. The age my mother was when she died. I am feeling some kinda way about that. I guess I have a year to get it untangled.
I see Mars. I smell my flowers. Gregory Alan Isakov is singing Sweet Heat Lighting just loud enough for me to hear him. Oh! I just saw a shooting star.
God is near and life is a gift.
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