"Only that day dawns of which we are aware." Thoreau. I have embarked upon another 24-hour journey through beauty, splendor, love and joy. In short... an adventure. What does this day offer to me and what do I bring to this day? "It isn't life that matters, it's the courage you bring to it." Hugh Walpole. "The least brave act, chance taken and passage won, makes you feel loud as a child." Annie Dillard.
My friend Doris gave me a red hat she'd crocheted. I keep it at my bedside. When I get cold in the night but it's too early to get up and make a fire, I put on the vivid beret and go back to sleep. Now it seems that my hair has taken the curious shape of the beret! It now parts down the middle and is swept back like gull wings. What an amazing little hair-dresser resides in the friendly hat! She is at work while I am at sleep and she never leaves a bill.
Not long ago I was talking with a friend when his pleasant smile turned to alarm . He lifted his hand to my throat and exclaimed, "Your beads are falling!" Yes, another string of my black cut glass granny necklace had severed and a jet bead shower was dripping to the floor. "Excuse me", he said as with carefully inoffensive fingers he knotted the threads to retain the beads that had not yet escaped. I stood stork still. It was an incredibly intimate moment. Not erotic but deeply caring. Then he knelt before me and began picking up the tiny scattered gems. I joined him in the harvest. Later we continued sitting on the floor while I told him how all the significant elder women of my childhood had been adorned with these kind of necklaces. I named the women and one by one they joined us. It was a lovely moment. I wore the necklace to the Forest History Center telling and remembered how Budd and I had gathered the beads of memory.
I also remembered how, with much groaning, he got himself upright. Then he pulled me to my feet and we laughed as loud as children at all our aches and pains.
"I (must) continue to create (blog) because writing (and blogging) is a labor of love and also an act of defiance, a way to light a candle in a gale wind." Alice Childress.
My friend Doris gave me a red hat she'd crocheted. I keep it at my bedside. When I get cold in the night but it's too early to get up and make a fire, I put on the vivid beret and go back to sleep. Now it seems that my hair has taken the curious shape of the beret! It now parts down the middle and is swept back like gull wings. What an amazing little hair-dresser resides in the friendly hat! She is at work while I am at sleep and she never leaves a bill.
Not long ago I was talking with a friend when his pleasant smile turned to alarm . He lifted his hand to my throat and exclaimed, "Your beads are falling!" Yes, another string of my black cut glass granny necklace had severed and a jet bead shower was dripping to the floor. "Excuse me", he said as with carefully inoffensive fingers he knotted the threads to retain the beads that had not yet escaped. I stood stork still. It was an incredibly intimate moment. Not erotic but deeply caring. Then he knelt before me and began picking up the tiny scattered gems. I joined him in the harvest. Later we continued sitting on the floor while I told him how all the significant elder women of my childhood had been adorned with these kind of necklaces. I named the women and one by one they joined us. It was a lovely moment. I wore the necklace to the Forest History Center telling and remembered how Budd and I had gathered the beads of memory.
I also remembered how, with much groaning, he got himself upright. Then he pulled me to my feet and we laughed as loud as children at all our aches and pains.
"I (must) continue to create (blog) because writing (and blogging) is a labor of love and also an act of defiance, a way to light a candle in a gale wind." Alice Childress.
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