grace tingling through
I went on a long walk yesterday, through the Banker’s Hill neighborhood of San Diego. Wild and twisty, sunlit, hummingbirds and sparrows and finches my companions. Across and under bridges, dangling in the day.
Back at my car, it felt wrong to leave. Off. It was not me clinging or grasping, at least mostly not those things. Stuff ends, right? There’s the next traffic jam, the next avocado, the next head on the old, squished pillow; waiting on the entryway to dreamland. Plus, now, in this recliner, there I am, still on the suspension bridge, high over the canyon and its thin, young eucalyptus, their fresh leaves reaching, yearning for the sky.
My heart beating wildly. Way more than these words are saying.
Yet – here, in the Blog, words are all I have.