October 29, 2016

Now, how will you ever trust me if I do not keep my promise to write? …I know…

Like entwining bodies, not telling which body was which, the night and day sky shared the bed of the horizon’s darkness.  I awoke to find I had slept the entire day.  Confused by lingering half-dreams still dancing behind my eyelids, I would have sworn I was lying before the Rockies, in the grasses of abandoned pastures.  Days I spent looping in circles, convinced of my progress to my tree.  No, I had been stumbling and circling, falling and rising, cursing and laughing, there among these weeds I had romanticized.  Nothing more than tall weeds, Steph.  Nothing more.  The grasses had seemed so safe, so easy to navigate in comparison to the woods I had weeks ago left behind.

My triumphant arrival now became grueling as I realized the path of no path was no easier than the woods.  At least the tree had canopy and the honeysuckles reached to my aid as I bounded over roots and rocks.  The memory of grasping their arms, although frightful, had been the meanest yet known companion.  

The grassy field was wide open – I could feel the welcomed warmth of sun and unfiltered air of wind.  But there was no one and nothing to catch me.  There were no rocks, but the grasses laughed as I bumbled through them, almost wishing for the times I would fall flat on my face because even I appreciated any comedy even approaching slapstick.  No these were the most dreaded of falls with slight twists of ankle muscle and bowing of knee.  Humiliating as I clutched for grass which only bent alongside to lay down with me, mocking my falls.

I thought I was done learning new walks, but the field was teaching me more.  The first evening I even struggled to sleep, only realizing with exhaustion that I was indeed tired, but I had no where to sleep.  Three nights it took me to figure out there were tufts under the reeds.  Soft ones.  And if I searched a bit and did not expect the “Sealy Posterpedic Fairy” to magically appear with a foam twenty inch mattress, then I could find comfort enough for sleep in these miniature tufts far below the grasstops. It was there, wrapping myself in those grasses, that I slept a day away, warmed by sun just enough and caressed with the cooing of winds circling through the tops of grasses far above my closed dream filled eyes.

Those clouds! They were only clouds, but for that split second bridge spanning dreams to wakefulness, I could have been back there, by the Rockies. And the last step before reaching the side of consciousness, my mind hazily pondered, “Where am I?”

Clouds, darkened storms made more fierce-looking by the coming night…And I returned to my pillowing tufts of grass below the tall tufts… with dreams of the Rockies as the storm growled overhead…

Love and Blessings!

~S

#thebrickdandelion #imjustme #thebeautifuljourney #thebeginning #ithankGodeveryday #dreamingoftheRockieswhilesleepinginthefield #lessonsofthewoods #alwayslearning