fluttering fingers and moonlight twirls…

DSC09429edited
I didn’t mean to see her so big.
Went looking for an address so i could send a letter that was for our eyes only
and, like a dream, I found her instead.
I wanted to make sure she’d heard me….to walk all the way to the edge
and lean over the side to make certain that she’d received my heart unedited.
But there she is and I cannot look away.
It’s like discovering this incredible Christmas present in the closet when I go looking for the lights.
I know it hasn’t been offered yet,  but my eyes can’t keep from dancing:)

I scroll through more images,  like I’m hearing her echo under years of rubble.
and my heart thumps wild hope as I dig.
The rest of the world goes quiet as I unwrap gifts – a local talkshow interview
and then another,  and I’m hearing at last the music of her voice.
The moving water of my children all together laughing is my favorite sound;
now hers is flowing across my ears and I throw back my head and join every glad noise
in the universe, belting out thanks for the wild beauty of this thing.

There is a timbre that siblings share,  like the voice of rippling waters.
The river just got wider and my heart stretches with the sound.

I watch her mannerisms, mesmerized,  matching every nod and tilt and gesture,
all so famliar – I know this rhythm.
I need to grab somebody’s arm and say,  “look!” – to share the wow of this discovery
but my feet are planted where they stand,
wilding over the beauty – her intelligence and humor and heart..
What she’s building in this world is just so cool and I’m grooving to her words,
powerful and clear,  even as she explains,  “I’m adopted,”
and I take in the way a shadow passes over the light in her eyes when she says it,
the way mine do when I’m feeling hard or pain
and my hand floats unthinking to the face on screen.  Am I seeing anger?
Is that grief?  Shame?  Or do I only imagine – just my fear on the screen.
Oh baby girl.
“Please talk to me,” I ache.

053

Facebook.
Do I even dare?
I’m standing in front of her profile picture
and the long road I’ve traveled seems to end right here.
I squeeze my eyes to hush the “don’t you even.”
My fingers flutter above the friend request key.
No.  Stop.  Too much.  Is it?  It’s an invitation,  right?  Or is it barging in.
Will she welcome this discovery or feel it intrusive?
I don’t know.
I don’t know so hard it hurts.

Instead,  I keep my hand over my heart
and let my eyes wander through her posts and pictures and perspectives,
savoring each one as I go,  like picking up feathers and leaves in the park.
I’d choose to hang out with this woman.
Like all of my kids,  this is someone I enjoy.
I can’t dig any deeper and not say something…..it feels stalker-ish.
And disingenuous.  I need to brave up and tell her.

I hit the message box on her profile and the daunting blank canvas pops up on my screen.
What do I even say?   
I want Amanda to know that I found her and I’m here,
– just a few pecks of the keys away – want to connect?
And if she doesn’t want,  or doesn’t want now,  I promise not to push.
If I don’t hear back,  I won’t withdraw my love.  I’m in either way.
I tug the message into words and my finger stalls on “send,”
my heart a jumble of joy and yes and please and oh shit.
I can’t do this.  Yes you can.  Go.  Just go – I mash the button quick to send.

When at last I get around to checking addresses that night,  I’m spent,
so it doesn’t bowl me over right away the several years she spent living in my city,
leaving just before we arrived.
Tomorrow I’ll go see,  I sigh as I finally nod off,  drained by the electricity of the day.
Like a kid after too much Christmas.
A few hours later,  I pop up with a start – Instagram!  I totally forgot to check….
I trot down the hall to my computer and  there she is again -too beautiful for words.
I linger for a while,  so punch drunk in love that I can hardly send my silly self back to bed.

One more quick check – facebook, did she answer back?
Not yet.  Okay.  It’s okay.  She’s on the west coast right now – time difference and all that.
I sit for a minute and hold the sheer awesomeness of even knowing this now,
my soul twirling grateful in the moonlight.
I’m guessing tomorrow,  then.  When she’s had time to digest.
And as sleep sweeps me up at last,   I’m smiling still.

big rock love
“When you get right down to it,  Lily,  that is the only purpose grand enough
for a human life.  Not just to love,  but to persist in love.”
– Sue Monk Kidd
(The Secret Life of Bees)

 I’m seven weeks into this Summer series and I love that you’re here.
Thanks for hearing and holding the pain of my story with such balmy care;
If it doesn’t shine through the ripples yet,  I’ll write it more clear around the bend,
the peace that’s holding me and the squeeze of Love’s hand.

 

 

Grace for the green…..

DSC06807edited
Living miles below the cloud line
while my heart strums chords of blue,
and I cry sometimes over shadows I find
looking back at me through you

Yeah,  I’ve been writing sad songs:)
It’s what I do when my heart holds close a story that I can’t yet tell
because it’s muddy waters and timing is everything
and my love for one born to me while I was still too green
is stronger than my need to turn loose the stormy waters
from inside myself.

DSC02981

But I’m done being mad at the little girl green that I was,
the one who tore out her heart and tucked it into the soft white blanket that I bought at Belks
when they told me I could choose one gift.
One impossible gift to wrap her in,  with my heart stowed away inside.
I still remember how it burned like electricity the first time someone spit
“you gave your baby away?”

But the tears wouldn’t come.
Oh,  they came in floods for the wanting her.  For the missing her.
For the not being enough for her.
But I never cried it out, the pain of landing hard on the cold floor of judgment
as one who abandoned her child.
Those tears swelled in a tender place behind my ribs,  un-cried until now.

 DSC02072

 At last they pour
because it came like a surgeon’s knife,  her words
crisp and clean,  and somehow Love has a hold on me
and I’m bleeding out the tears from a place scarred deep
and pouring on forgiveness to the girl I used to be.

I release her, too,  this other child,,
5 months pregnant,  scared and green,
caught up in a story way bigger than me
at the edge of seventeen.

x141_24

~ I share this for all of us who carry grief over impossible choices.
No matter what we decided.
Because there’s a hefty sort of grace for it all
…………………………………………..

“Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process
is the bravest thing we’ll ever do.”
-Brene’ Brown
=============================================

I blog out my living and breathing,  sometimes messy, and it’s been swirling waters
and tear-stained keyboard for a few weeks and I’ve got to be true;
it’s just where I am.
Thank you for coming around and sharing the road even when it’s muddy.
~ ~~~~~~~~~
I do have an October zine to give away
Leave a comment and you’re in the drawing
with a heap of joy and love.

bird in a skyfull of love….

DSC03794editededitededitededited
My heart is full of river and sky
and apple blossom and newborn green,
of leaves uncurling buttery soft
and smelling still not of this world
and it’s a fresh breeze I’m breathing
as the sun shines soft on the field of dreams I carry inside.

My business is busy and my foot is mending
but i’m protecting a chunk of time each day
to throw my love into a project that has my heart
sliding off my sleeve into handmade books I’m making for each of my kids
to give when birthdays blossom in June
and I’m feeling the passion of packing a care package
I want their hearts to carry for the rest of their days

with so much love I’m a bird in flight with a mighty soar
and coming awake and alive all the more
and it’s tilling up some fields of change
making art and cobbling together words for these.

It’s funny how high you can fly when you’re full up wildly in love.
It’s in the love,  isn’t it
…..love is the flying.

I’m scooping up the edges of my ragamuffin prayers
and wrapping them around you,  too,
that you’ll hear your name in the whispering light
and feel it inside that you matter so big,
you,  all beautiful with belonging,
a twinkle in the eyes of God,
a sight worth seeing,
a song worth singing,
a bird in a skyfull of love.

DSC08678editededitededitededited
“The only true currency in this bankrupt world
is what we share with someone else
when we’re uncool.”
-from Almost Famous