No Ross, just myself

“You’re turning into a hippie!” Ross says with a grin.

Watching a transformation in the physical environment around me.

A safe, secure space, I now call home.

With the white walls of a quiet mind; colour accents to celebrate a slow and steady revolution of an inner peace.

I rouse with the gentle dawn to the lorikeets.

Alarms no longer required to stir me from disquiet.

I awaken, tranquil.

Sometimes through a peaceful daydream sequence; a previously strived for meditation now innate.

"You’re turning into a hippie!" Ross says with a grin.

Perhaps it’s when I restock my potpourri of vanilla, lavender and rose?

Or when he sees the incense spirals, a further sense released, of frangipani or sandalwood?

I’m rediscovering, with a process of reflection and evolution, a new era unfolding; my own affluence of simplicity.

I have moved beyond two washes of clothing, one black, and one white.

I am experiencing a visual revolution to a gentle expression of colour.

Healthy and considered with wellness on my mind.

I am not disaffected, I’ve closed the door on that, but opened onto?

A rethinking of my direction, and there’s the keyword.

‘Rethinking.’

My brain cognisant that driven flights into wellness, may not be my own.

Instead I focus on slow and steady progress, no hurry, with time to meander.

When I returned unwell and lost, I would cling with desperation to my son as he slept and whisper, “Please let me be worthy?”

Now content, to listen for the elusive gaps between sounds, I no longer cling to him.

And although some may not understand, it is our voluntary and agreed freedom that reassures us that I am indeed worthy.

Mother to son.

“You’re turning a hippy!” he laughs, with mutual understanding, perhaps anticipating my answer.

“No Ross, I’m becoming myself …”

Pauline Fountain. © 2021. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced without the written permission of the author.