Today it is you who must wait…

All this and weeks later I am still no closer at the end of my day to identifying the shooter with confidence. There are so many threads to follow in this that I have now woven a tapestry of doubt and deceit that could fill the panoramic view from my picture window. Some days it is a continual struggle not to surrender to the frustrations. I build case histories and bias’s and like castles in the sand they stand stately and righteous until another wave of information breaks the shore and I am left with partial walls that can no longer support such lofty turrets. And then of course there is the remainder of one’s life that bleeds in between the ups and downs of information, with ups and downs of its own and that keeps you tethered to things both kind and un… never setting you free for true discovery.
It is a sullen day and the sky is acting like an ill child; vomiting with alternating violence and then drooling with soured tongue into the long pauses in between. Odd as it may seem I am happy for the change of course, as I have grown weary of the sunshine. Somewhere in my travels this past month I have lost my smile and while I understand I must be about the business of finding it… I have need of cocooning and healing one more day. Retrogrades are hard for me and I find I am not as enthusiastic in my recuperation these days. I need to be still in both heart and mind and listen to the calm that surely must be just beyond this storm of chaos I now find my self in.
A poofy red dress.
A sunflower.
A white dog with playful paw.
A college application.
A child from the theatre. My Jessica- the little rabbit.
A heart…

Personal messages of constancy from Charley, embroidered with snippets of both current currency and great nostalgia from my mother and father. I am deeply moved and awed at the vastness of this intelligent universe and feel small and unprepared for what it is Charley asks of me. What if I fail? What if in my ignorance I cannot decipher the messages correctly? What if in my innocence of true evil, I do not perceive the dangers that could harm those about me? What if all I ever do is prolong the suffering of a child who never got to know her father? What if in my eagerness to finish the puzzle I have lost sight of the picture all the pieces were meant to recreate? I look at my own life and measure my ability against Julie’s need and sometimes cannot find the balance necssary to do justice to us both. Can I have been chosen so ill advised by her father, or is there more to me, than the me that has been shaken too hard by recent events?
Today in my joy at rediscovery of my parents, I also feel great pain at their loss. It is a wound that rips at the seams each time they tug at my heart with what purity I once contained in their eyes. I hold tight to the image of a small child auditioning in a cold basement for whatever task Walt Disney thought worthy the Sunday night before. I think about the sunflower and know that in its seeds it contains a personal message from “Under the Tuscan Sun”. A message meant to remind me that patience and due diligence to my craft and my life will bring full circle to my talent and my destination. “Lady bugs, Catherine… lots and lots of lady bugs!” I watch the paw of a white dog raise and lower in eager anticipation of a tennis ball and know that both people I cherish beyond life and one man who is counting on me- watch from a far and participate in my guidance. May they find their efforts from another space to believe in me, not be in vain.
Everyday for the past year I have sat at this desk and most of my energies have been for you Charley. But today… today, when the rain is all I can see both inside and out… today Charley they must be for me.
Yesterday we met with R and another expert to review crime scene photos and gather more information. The photos spoke to this other individual in a language foreign to me- the language of forensics. It is a cold and exacting language that does not allow the heart to enter. Today I have too much heart to bear the weight of so much objectivity and so my dear friend, Charley Covington…this time it is you who must wait patiently atop the front step of your proverbial home for me to find the pathway back.

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