My daughter Sasha called me tonight. She’s 22 and sassy, lovely, speaks her mind so confidently. Lately she’s been letting me have it about the blog posts: “How come none of your kids are featured in them? We didn’t even make the picture gratitude list. Don’t you miss us?” I do of course….and yet the space where the tenderness of their absence exists is surrounded by the courage of my conviction: This time is my time to grow and learn and be.
That statement sits well within me, reverberating, rippling outward, lapping at all my edgier, echoey edges; inviting me to a greater expression of lovely wispy wholeness. Sasha isn’t buying it, but as she talks about her day and how she has to keep the apartment clean now that I am gone and her heart-felt inclination toward a Creative Writing Course in the Fall, it dawns on me that we are not as far apart as she thinks.
I have, since I left New Jersey, become acutely alert to the power of these serendipitous awareness’s and how frequently they emerge at the periphery of my shimmery self and invite me into a deeper connection with this fragile, beautiful, ephemeral life; And how much this speaks to open, honest, hushed vulnerability and love. It is in this blessed place for the moment that I now reside, and I am extremely grateful.
I’m at the Starbucks in downtown Wayzata tonight because the internet connection is a little faster than Caribou. Bevie made me a green salad with her classic blue cheese dressing and I ate two cobs of Minnesota corn! During dinner, a policeman came to her door looking for someone named Ginger. Her car had been found on the other side of town still running and she was no longer in it. The car was registered to my mother’s address. Ginger had lived there once. “Will she be all right?” I asked the young cop. “We are trying to find her,” he said.
And so now I think of Ginger and hope that she is o.k. And wonder……
Big Loving Namaste!