Rest in peace, my dear girl…

 

2/28/12

 

Yesterday should have been a day for feathers and yet, none crossed my path. How ironic, for I felt the bald eagle from last November, metaphorically spread its wings high above me and shelter me from harm. I did an interview yesterday and while I wanted to sing from the rafters, this canary clung to the cage of tact and held her tongue. It was a curious day. Sometimes I felt very much alone in my path and then without fanfare, Charley would be near me, his face hinting of a smile—but not committing.  It almost felt as though he was holding back on purpose… watching and waiting, like a child eager for a parent to open a present they had made for them.

 

Yesterday too was a day for Roxanne. Once my work day had ended, I spent the drive home listening to “Il Divo,” a CD sung by the 4 famous Italian Tenors and while I understood very little of the foreign language spoken, the music was beyond beautiful, their voices primal and striking and it touched my heart so that I listened in silence the entire ride. Once home and stranded in pensive mode, I poured a generous Amaretto on the rocks and sat on the deck- watching the sunlight skip across the water as it began to hide behind the tree line. Everything was perfect. I said a small prayer of gratitude and then at the shoreline, a small frog disturbed the sullen rhythm of the lapping waves and sent out a ripple that grew with each foot of water it consumed. In that instant I thought of the perfection of my placement in the cosmos, the encouragement of my view juxtaposed against the disappointing view my dear Roxanne saw from her vantage point in another body of water 4 hours to my south. I wanted to cry and tell her that not all lakes bore such evil tidings…that I would be happy to share such happy shores of my own with her. And then I bid her to rest with me…there on the beach for a time before she moved on to what was necessary for her evolution.

 

I know she heard me, for as the buttery sun began to melt beyond the horizon, a small breeze escaped the lips of the hemlock nearby and a long blonde hair drifted across my cheek and tickled the end of my nose.

 

Was it one of mine…or one of hers?  I brushed the hair away, but it returned time and time again and so I smiled and let the wind and Roxanne play where they willed.

 

I know that this blog must come to an end, as all things eventually do. I know that there may be some questions asked that may never be answered. But I also know that there have been many questions brought to bare, shadows dispelled and light shed where none has shined for over four decades. Is today the day this blog ends? That remains to be seen. For now, I am content to let Charley grin and Roxanne play and I invite the MOT and Jessica to do the same. Let them rest for awhile and live with me here, in this glorious place that was chosen just for me.

 

How do I know it was chosen for me?

 

Because like every other clue presented, certain numbers were offered to R as significant. Over 6 months ago, the exact letters in this address kept appearing to R in the exact order they occur on my mail. At the time I had no idea their significance or what they were tied to. Infact, it wasn’t until I unpacked my first box that it dawned on me that someone had been guiding me to this sanctuary all along.

 

Who knows… it may have even been Roxanne.

Rest in peace, my dear girl. I am here to keep you safe…all of you!

2 Responses to “Rest in peace, my dear girl…”

  1. Bonnie Giles Says:

    It is hard to breathe with all the eager anticipation building inside of me. You amaze me at how you are able to control your feelings and emotions with all that you have learned and know. I know you have Uncle Charley at your side daily. I cannot hardly wait!!!!!!!

  2. Brownstone Literary Works Says:

    It is not a matter of control… it is a matter of necessity.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


%d bloggers like this: