This is heaven.
She is certain.
White knuckling the counter she leans over. the weight of her chest pulling her towards the earth
A sigh releases from her lips
This familiar creeping. Of sorrow, of desire, of wondering if the numbness could sneak its way back in
The music enveloping her from all sides, surrounded, no one is watching.
letting her body release and her worries cascade from her fingertips
as she moves, so do those around her.
Caught up in the dance.
reaching for their own sense of freedom
Losing herself in her journal, allowing the ache to move and exist in every crack and crevice, she writes “I feel crazy” and a small smile flashes across her lips.
To be a woman. To feel crazy. What a blessing.
The car windows rolled down and the radio up loud as the melodies of music escape from her, filling the valley and calling forth a new lightness.
This is heaven. She is certain.
Holding the frustrations of the world, her ball of joy being pressed from all sides. How can she protect what she most treasures when her essence is a threat to the expected
To feel peace in adversity, to feel safe in chaos, to see beauty in the pain. A gift and a burden. a two-sided blade.
Staring up as the Aspens dance and sing their chorus, she knows that she is exactly where she is called to be.
There is no doubt in this.
Uncertain about the future, reminiscent of the past, but just as kindly set gently in the present.
Honored by the gift to do something, anything, always.