Give wings to the stone
It is absolutely freezing outside and my tiny house is struggling to stay warm. I am struggling to stay warm, as well. Cup after cup of tea and coffee. The sky looks JUST like snow. I feel I am no longer in Virginia, rather I am in some part of the world where this is expected and usual. Without TV and without a radio, my panic doesn't exist. If my power goes out, I will bundle up and drive my car to my parent's where I will sit by the woodstove and knit. My little puppy is blanketed up and ready to go.
Sitting here, thinking back on my weekend, I am struck by the thought that I have had no time to be lonesome, only time to sleep and adventure and hurry. I usually find some time throughout my day to be lonely for a while. To be still and quiet, and I have missed that this weekend. So today, I will sit and send up a silent prayer, bundled up with my guitar and coffee cup.
I am grateful this morning. I am grateful for my tiny house, the daffodil my mother brought me and for the heart that loves me while I am near or far. Grateful for so many things today. I should endeavor to be this grateful more often.
I will sit and hem the ends of Addie's dog blanket, do my tiny pile of dishes and fold laundry, then dress more warmly than necessary (just in case) and take myself off to work with other's just like me. Working because they, too are lost in the sea and the rhythm of this early 20-something life. We will talk about coffee and movies and books and the last time we saw snow and we will giggle and stress and close up early and run home to our warm beds...or perhaps someone else's home to share in this chilly and exciting evening.
As for me, I will come home and tell you some of my thoughts on the deep winter and the stark branches against the setting sun as it gives one last glow behind the hills.
Be safe outside...and also, inside, as it is just as dangerous within ourselves as it is on the road.
Sitting here, thinking back on my weekend, I am struck by the thought that I have had no time to be lonesome, only time to sleep and adventure and hurry. I usually find some time throughout my day to be lonely for a while. To be still and quiet, and I have missed that this weekend. So today, I will sit and send up a silent prayer, bundled up with my guitar and coffee cup.
I am grateful this morning. I am grateful for my tiny house, the daffodil my mother brought me and for the heart that loves me while I am near or far. Grateful for so many things today. I should endeavor to be this grateful more often.
I will sit and hem the ends of Addie's dog blanket, do my tiny pile of dishes and fold laundry, then dress more warmly than necessary (just in case) and take myself off to work with other's just like me. Working because they, too are lost in the sea and the rhythm of this early 20-something life. We will talk about coffee and movies and books and the last time we saw snow and we will giggle and stress and close up early and run home to our warm beds...or perhaps someone else's home to share in this chilly and exciting evening.
As for me, I will come home and tell you some of my thoughts on the deep winter and the stark branches against the setting sun as it gives one last glow behind the hills.
Be safe outside...and also, inside, as it is just as dangerous within ourselves as it is on the road.
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