washwords

Blogher, the wonderful Web site for women on all topics, stages, and places in life (and umm, by the way, please clickity click on the ad in the box to the right of this post and the recommended reading below it, brought to you by the one and the same blogher peeps)  has introduced and suggested this meme (suggested themes for writing, especially electronically):

Write a letter to your heart

And so it begins… it turns out I had a lot to say: Read more »

Today, I am full. I am plenty-full.

[PhotoSquash a Plenty by Travelinfool55 on flickr]

It is not the turkey or the squash. It is not even that the waiting is over. It’s not.

And my belly still hurts and my heart is still racing and will be until things are settled, or more settled anyway.

And yet….

I am full. Full of love. Full of family. Full of old friends and new loves and putting old fears to rest and embracing new securities and love and hope. I am full, and full of thanks and it is good.

Against the aqua of my curtains comes yellow so bright, I think it must be car lights. It is 8:20 p.m.

I open the curtain to see that no, it is the summer sky before a storm.

Yellow beams hit my curtains, pebbled sandy driveway, clean white stone of the walls of my building. The rain is coming.

Thunder literally rolls over the yellow green of grass, magnolia tree leaves, footprints.

Flashes of white that stab the earth and listen, wait.

I open the curtains wide to breathe in the wet wind.

When the rain comes, it is in drumming, pattering waves. I love the smell, the taste, the feel of the night from my room, the same storms I watched from a similarly yellow-lit blue room of my childhood.

The summer storm makes me feel something is coming. And anything is possible.

[Photo by "Soleil 1016" on Flickr]