Sitting quietly with myself I discover moments I thought long forgotten, gone, still waiting for me.
I come face-to-face with the parts of me I’d cast aside and thought swept far away, and I remember this is my one precious Life and each thread [with all the others] holds me still.
I find my corners full with dusty bits of Time when this or that thing hadn’t gone as I’d hoped or planned or sincerely BElieved I needed it to go.
I step over the shards of lost hopes and crumpled-up wishes. I move aside the boxes of disappointment and sit in one little sun-drenched patch of JOYs and wondrousnesses.
When I am quiet enough to really listen to the stillness and smallness of what remains in me from so long ago, I am undone by the sweetness of who I was once, and again, and even more times than I canNOT count along this Journey that makes up what I call My Life.
I don’t consider myself to BE so tender as I find I have been, had been, and I am certain I would no longer BE considered anywhere near the neighbourhood of tender. NOT Now.
Yet Now I see myself in another way and I can call it nothing if NOT gentle and kindhearted.
I love you, Currie