Time for my walk, but I could not tie my shoes. My tremor stutter hand would not work. Shoe in my lap, eyes closed, I asked the little one inside my spirit if she remembered learning to tie her shoes. I didn't always know how to tie shoes. Perhaps if I remembered how I learned I could figure a way to tie my shoes now.
Resting upon the water windows of time I floated back through all the images and albums. I remember the sound of sea gulls and waves at sunrise. I remember once, just once, feeling cute. I remember being loved. I remember love. I remember when to awake meant another day to love and share. I remember the sound of my father's voice. I remember running for miles and miles. I remember the sound of 'hello.' I remember my grandfather teaching me to honor and bow to the forest before you enter. I remember hands that danced with words and eyes that could read. I remember laughter and songs that left me breathless. I remember the feel of my knees as I bowed in awe, wonder and grace. I remember the squeaking sound of feet walking along the beach at night and the sound of unseen waves. I could not, however, remember how I learned to tie my shoes.
As I put my shoes away, a promise to the little one inside and to my heart, we shall never take for granted the precious moments of 'I remember.' I didn't always know beauty, love, waves and grace. But I learned and I remember. Bowing my head, I gave thanks for the grace of having known, and in knowing, to remember. And so my little one and I walked barefoot in the yard instead, a walk I will remember.
A morning like fall, only fifty eight degrees. The day whispered to come to her and see a different nature. I walked to the downtown main street and the morning whispered 'Worry not about the pain.' Sitting outside a small town cafe, I tasted the sounds and morning breeze beneath a canopy pretending to hide the sun.
Coffee and breakfast ordered with the crispness of the morning air.
A shop keeper came out to tend the petunias. She taught me about pruning, the energy of plants and invited me in for coffee when breakfast was done.
As I looked at the plate, even the sun seemed to smile. The morning air and the energy of the plants told my body there would be no pain. The empty plate a witness to hope for my fading body.
The shopkeeper shared her Native American treasures and talked of the mountains and how they too had drawn her here. Taking my hand in hers, her voice quiet and soft, 'Welcome and blessings' she bid me as I readied to leave. I paused at the door, partly to savor the morning nectar and partly from embarrassment, I had failed to introduce myself. She gifted me her name, and with a smile, "And yours?" "My name is Beth" I replied with hands to my heart as I bowed.
Walking back, I paused by the river to give thanks, and savor a bit longer, the morning breeze. To drink and taste again the coffee, quiche and fresh fruit partaken with no thought but their delight. To wish a blessed day to a stranger friend and celebrate the river'd dance of Life.
Namaste to all who see, Welcome and Blessings on this gifted day.
