Mama, ecologist, poet, spiritualist, naturalist.
Chapter 1 My feet pound on the wet earth, matched by the drumbeat of my heart. Low-hanging branches whip and slice my face, stinging in the tears rolling down my cheeks. RUN! My entire body cries in terror as my feet slip in the thick layer of decaying leaves covering black soil. The slip happens in slow motion, the possibility of debilitating disaster displayed in my mind’s eye with striking clarity. But I have the resiliency of youth, and it is only a momentary delay, a terrifying glimpse of failure.
Your Silver Hair Matches Your Silver Tongue
Before Maybe if the kids hadn’t woken me from a deep sleep at 2 am, things would’ve turned out differently. The darkness of this time of night cloaks me, gives me a clarity not available in the daylight. Maybe if I’d slept through them, my dreams wouldn’t have come crashing down. I could dwell the rest of my life in those maybes, live happily believing the black of night whispers untruths. But I’ve never been much for doubting the revelations that come to me at night. And I’ve never been a procrastinator. Best to get on with it.