A more beautiful place

This holiday season, as they call it, I am thinking  and feeling about my family. For some reason knowing you’re likely in the home-stretch of things allows you a sharper awareness of the immense love you feel for family members, most all gone from life. I’m grateful for my instincts because I don’t mind being present in the experience.

Family life ended for me in December, 1969,  two months after my 16th birthday; an essay for another time.

Of course there are tears, at times, and, of course, there are momentary flashes of fury. Fury at the loss, at how long its been, fists clenched, and, literally, nothing and no one deserving of a blow exists on this planet. The stone cold fact is, nothing and no one deserving of that blow has ever existed on this planet.

So I allow the feeling of fury until it passes. It always does.

These days I’m thinking of my mother and father, ,Grandma and Grandpa, Mommom and Poppop (my mother’s parents), Uncle Harry, Aunt Dorothy, Uncle Peter, Marjorie, my sister, Rebecca, my childhood friends, a number gone now. My brother, Bobby. I think of my other mother, Leona, my birth-mother — a better human being has never walked the earth. We were  reunited on January 8, 1987. We were emotional and spiritual twins. She was an angel. I bet she still is!

Now, if there is something after this life, it damn well better include more time with these beautiful human beings  or else I’m not interested. When I walk through the beautiful museum hallways in my mind, all the above are there, masterpieces all.

There’s never been a more beautiful place than family.

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OUTSIDE MY WINDOW

Outside my window the light leaves the day and the snow continues its slow retreat into the earth. My two dogs nest near my feet and the darkening grey-blue sky for reasons I don’t fully understand reminds me of the dangerous divide between humanity life and earth life, of humanity and nature. I think of how dishonesty and greed and the all too noticeable absence of compassion for our fellow human beings drives this divide even wider. It seems to me this divide, unless closed, seals our planet’s end, unless humankind, driven by its poisonous fuels, manages to hurry it’s end with violence.

I worry for the human family, so divided by borders, skin color, sexual preferences, religion, gender, wealth, poverty, language, custom and more. While leaders of nations may know each other the people in these nations are kept in their respective rooms, segregated, their voices tempered, ignored or annihilated.

I love mother earth. I love the sky. I love clouds and streams, rivers, lakes, oceans, mountains, the wind at night and the magnificence of thunder and the crackle-blaze glory of lightening. I love humanity and the idea of humanity. I love that there is laughter and the ability to sway with the intoxication of love. I love that music sends chills dancing on the spine and the nape of the neck. I love words that wet my eyes, words that run so deep they reach, touch, taste and tell on our very souls.

The light has left the day now; a lamp casts my writing table in a soft glow. There is a peace here in this moment, gratitude that I am alive to write these words whatever their worth. And, there is a joy knowing that tomorrow the sun will rise, tomorrow.